y 


ROBERT  WlCliv\MB5 


What's  the  use/   she  said,   'of  kissing  a  girl  who  is 
engaged  ? '  ' 

[Page  308.] 


OF  f)EAVEN 


Robert  W.  Chambers 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  FIGHTING  CHANCE," 
"IOLE,"  "THE  TRACER  OF  LOST 

PERSONS,"    ETC. 


D.   APPLETON   AND   COMPANY 
NEW   YORK  MCMVII 

4 


COPTKIQHT,   1907,   BT 

ROBERT  W.  CHAMBERS 


Published  Ma,yt 


TO  MY  FRIEND 
AUSTIN     CORBIN 


912828 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I. — THE  CARPET  OF  BELSHAZZAR  .       .        .       .        1 

II. — THE  SIGN  OF  VENUS 40 

III. — THE  CASE  OF  MR.   HELMER    .       .       .       .     60 
IV.— THE  TREE  OF  DREAMS      .....     77 

V.—THE  BRIDAL  PAIR 128 

VI.— Ex  CURIA ,       .       .153 

VII.— THE  GOLDEN  POOL 176 

VIII. — OUT  OF  THE  DEPTHS 200 

IX.— THE  SWASTIKA 218 

X. — THE  GHOST  OF  CHANCE 258 

vii 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 


FACINQ 

PAGE 


"'What's   the   use,'  she   said,   'of  kissing  a  girl 
who   is   engaged?'"  ....       Frontispiece. 

"She  dropped  her  head,  striking  chord  on  chord 

with  nervous  precision"         .       .       .       .       .14 

"  The  girl  in  black  stood  motionless,  watching  him 

intently" 66 

"At  the  foot  of  the  stairs  she  .   .   .  made  him  a 

low  reverence" 174 

ix 


THE  TREE  OF  HEAVEN 


CHAPTER    I 

THE   CARPET    OF    BELSHAZZAR 

WE  all  were  glad  to  see  him;  on  his  return  he 
had  found  us  all  his  friends.  Nobody  had  spoken 
to  him  about  his  abrupt  departure  from  New  York ; 
nobody  had  mentioned  Westover;  nothing  con 
nected  with  that  episode  was  even  hinted  at  by  any 
of  us,  I  believe,  during  his  short  sojourn  among 
us.  It  was  he  himself  who  spoke  of  it  first. 

Of  course  during  his  absence  we  had  followed 
his  career ;  many  among  us  had  read  and  tried  to 
understand  what  he  had  written  in  his  three  world- 
famous  volumes,  "  Occult  Philosophy,"  "  The 
Weight  of  Human  Souls,"  and  "  The  Interstellar 
Laws  of  Psychic  Phenomena." 

It  seemed,  at  times,  here  to  us  in  America,  that 
it  was  impossible  that  the  man  we  had  known  so 
well  could  have  become  the  great  Psychic  Scientist 
who  had  written  these  three  astounding  works — 
who  now  occupied  the  Chair  of  Psychical  Philos- 

1 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

ophy  in  the  great  University  of  Trebizond — the 
man  who  was  the  confidential  adviser  of  the  Shah 
of  Persia,  the  mentor  of  the  Ameer  of  Afghanistan, 
the  inspirer  of  the  greatest  diplomat  of  all  the 
East — the  late  Akhound  of  Swat. 

As  he  sat  there  in  his  immaculate  evening  dress, 
bronzed,  youthful  looking,  presiding  so  quietly  at 
the  little  dinner  which  he  had  given  to  us  as  a  half- 
formal,  half -intimate  leave-taking  before  he  sailed, 
it  seemed  to  us  incredible  that  this  man,  now  on 
his  return  journey  to  Trebizond  via  Lhassa,  could 
be  the  beloved  and  dreaded  arbiter  of  Asiatic  poli 
tics — the  one  white  man  in  all  the  Orient  who  had 
ever  been  wholly  respected,  and  absolutely  feared 
by  the  temporal  and  spiritual  heads  of  nations, 
religions,  clans,  and  sects. 

That,  of  course,  he  was  what  is  popularly  known 
as  an  adept,  we  supposed.  What  his  wisdom,  his 
insight,  his  amazing  knowledge  of  the  occult  might 
include,  we  preferred,  rather  uncomfortably,  not 
to  conjecture. 

There  is,  naturally,  in  all  of  us  a  childlike  de 
sire  to  hear  of  marvels ;  there  is  also  a  stronger 
and  more  childish  desire  to  see  miracles  performed. 

I  am  quite  sure  that  we  all  hoped  he  might  per 
haps  care  to  do  something  for  us — merely  to  con 
vince  us.  And  at  first,  I  know  that  many  among 

2 


THE  CARPET  OF  BELSHAZZAR 

us,  seated  there  in  the  private  room  at  the  Lenox 
Club,  felt  a  trifle  ill  at  ease  and  a  little  in 
awe  of  this  man  with  whom  we  were  at  such  close 
quarters. 

There  was  nothing  particularly  remarkable 
about  the  dinner ;  it  was  the  usual  excellent  aff air 
one  might  expect  at  the  Lenox ;  the  wines  perfect, 
the  service  flawless. 

And  now,  smoking  our  cigars,  lounging  in 
groups  over  the  flower-laden  table,  we  fell  into  the 
old,  intimate,  easy  channels  of  conversation,  chat 
ting  of  past  days,  of  our  hopes  and  ambitions. 

And  our  host,  quiet,  self-contained,  pushed  back 
his  chair,  looking  somewhat  curiously,  I  thought, 
from  one  to  the  other.  And  I  thought,  too,  as  his 
pleasant  bronzed  features  changed  from  a  faint 
smile  to  a  graver  expression,  and  then  reverted  to 
the  smile  for  a  moment,  that  he  seemed  to  see  some 
thing  in  each  of  us  that  was  perhaps  hidden  from 
ourselves — that,  as  his  eyes  swept  us,  he  was  not 
only  capable  of  reading  much  of  what  was  not 
understood  by  us,  but  also  something  in  the  hid 
den  future  which  awaited  each  of  us. 

So  strongly  did  this  idea  begin  to  take  hold  of 
me  that  it  began  to  make  me  uneasy.  I  felt,  too, 
that  others  among  us  harbored  that  same  idea — 
for  the  conversation  was  less  accented  now,  and  in- 

3 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

termittent ;  voices  had  fallen  to  a  lower,  quieter 
pitch;  and  after  a  little  nobody  spoke. 

Then  I  saw  that  we  all  were  looking  straight 
at  our  host,  as  though  under  some  subtle  and  fas 
cinated  compulsion. 

He  sat  very  still ;  his  composure  appeared  a  trifle 
forced,  as  though  he  had  voicelessly  summoned 
us  to  concentrate  upon  him  our  attention,  and  was 
now  searching  for  the  exact  words  for  some  state 
ment  which  he  had  meant  to  make  to  us  all. 

After  a  moment  a  slight  flush  crept  over  his 
handsome  face.  He  said: 

"  You  fellows  are  very  good  to  come  here  and 
let  me  take  leave  of  you  so  pleasantly.  You  have 
been  very  kind  to  me  since  I  have  come  again  among 
you.  The  sort  of  friendship  that  asks  nothing 
but  takes  a  man  for  granted  is  a  good  sort.  Hel 
mer," — he  looked  at  the  sculptor  Helmer — "  I  shall 
see  you  soon  again."  We  all  turned  in  surprise 
to  Helmer,  who  seemed  as  surprised  as  we  were. 
"  I  shall  see  you  sooner  than  you  expect.  .  .  . 
Smith !  " — he  smiled  at  J.  Abingdon  Smith,  3d — 
"  some  day  you  will  uproot  a  Tree  of  Dreams, 
but  not  the  dream,  Smith;  that  will  become  very 
real  when  you  awake — as  true  " — and  he  turned 
to  the  man  on  his  left — "  as  true  as  a  dream  which 
you  shall  dream  under  the  Sign  of  Venus." 

4 


THE  CARPET  OF  BELSHAZZAR 

We  sat  there  breathless,  expectant.  He  was 
doing  something  after  all ;  he  was  prophesying,  in 
a  curious  sort  of  manner,  probably  speaking  in 
symbols.  And  though  we  could  not  understand, 
we  listened  while  the  little  shivers  fluttered  our 
pulses. 

Then  he  looked  at  Edgerton,  smiling;  and 
Edgerton  flushed  up  and  looked  back  at  him,  al 
most  defiantly. 

"  Edgerton,"  he  said,  "  don't  worry  too  much. 
What  is  not  to  be  settled  in  court  can  sometimes  be 
settled — ex  curia"  And  to  the  young  man  on  his 
right :  "  Doctor,  don't  overwork.  If  you  do  you 
will  learn  a  stranger  truth  than  is  locked  up  among 
the  molecules  and  atoms  in  your  laboratory !  " 

Then  he  leaned  across  the  table  and  laid  one 
hand  on  Leeds's  shoulder.  "  I  congratulate  you," 
he  said,  smiling ;  "you've  got  a  good-natured  ghost 
following  you  about.  But  he'll  leave  you  if  you 
turn  idle.  And  don't  be  afraid,  my  boy." 

"  I'm  not  afraid,"  said  young  Leeds,  rather 
pallid,  but  straightening  up  in  his  chair. 

Our  host  laughed;  then  his  face  changed,  and 
he  raised  his  eyes  to  Shannon : 

"Where  is  Harrod?  "  he  asked  slowly. 

"At  Bar  Harbor,"  replied  Shannon,  "I  be 
lieve." 

5 


THE   TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

"  I  thought  so.  And — remember  one  thing — 
there  is  a  certain  law  which  governs  the  validity 
of  a  check  drawn  to  a  man's  order  when  that  check 
has  been  signed  by  a  man  no  longer  living.  But, 
Shannon,  the  intention  is  the  important  thing  in 
such  a  matter." 

"  What,  exactly,  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  Shan 
non,  astonished. 

But  our  host  had  already  turned  to  Escourt: 

"  Captain,"  he  said,  "  you  sail — when  ?  " 

"  I  have  no  sailing  orders,"  laughed  Escourt. 

"  Not  yet  ?  "  Our  host  looked  quietly  at  the 
young  officer.  "  Well,  it  isn't  the  length  of  a 
voyage  that  counts,  Escourt — nor  the  size  of  the 
troopship.  No ;  you  will  anchor,  some  day,  in  a 
smaller  craft  than  you  started  in,  in  the  Port  of 
the  Golden  Pool." 

Escourt,  still  smiling,  waited ;  but  our  host  sat 
silent,  head  bent,  one  hand  on  the  edge  of  the  table 
cloth. 

"  Not  one  of  you,"  he  said,  without  raising 
his  eyes,  "  not  one  among  you  but  who  shall  come 
face  to  face  with  what  you  still  consider  miracles. 
.  .  .  Even  Hildreth,  yonder" — Hildreth  jumped 
— "  even  Hildreth  shall  learn  from  the  Swastika." 

"  Swa— swat?  What— what?  "  stammered  Hil 
dreth. 

6 


THE  CARPET  OF  BELSHAZZAR 

"  Nothing  to  alarm  you,"  smiled  the  other ;  then 
again  the  swift  shadow  fell  across  his  face. 

"  Not  one  man  among  you  who  has  not  proven 
his  friendship  for  me,"  he  said,  looking  up  and 
around.  And  to  me  he  added :  "  You  must  prove 
it  still  further  by  telling  fearlessly  to  the  world 
what  there  will  be  to  tell  after  I  have  gone,  and 
after  my  words  have  been  proven — the  words  I 
have  spoken  here  to-night — and  which  no  one 
among  you  understands.  .  .  .  But  you  all  will 
understand  them.  And  when  the  last  man  among 
you  has  understood " — turning  again  to  me — 
"  you  must  bear  witness  to  the  world,  bear  witness 
in  printed  page  and  over  your  own  signature.  Do 
you  promise  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  said. 

Then  very  quietly  he  looked  around  the  table, 
and  leaned  forward,  regarding  each  man  in  turn. 

"  I  think,"  he  said,  "  that  it  is  time  you  under 
stood  exactly  the  facts  about  which  you  have  for 
borne  to  question  me.  And  I  mean  to  tell  you 
before  we  part;  I  mean  to  tell  you  the  truth  con 
cerning  Westover  and — all  that  happened.  .  .  . 
And  when  you  know  these  facts,  then  you  may  be 
gin  to  surmise  why  I  went  to  Trebizond,  why  I  re 
main,  and — and — what  miracle  of  happiness  I  have 
found  there — for  the  third  time  reincarnated." 
2  7 


THE   TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

He  leaned  back  in  his  chair;  his  clear  eyes  be 
came  fixed  and  dreamy.  Then  he  began  to  speak, 
in  a  low  voice,  as  though  to  himself : 

•  *  »  •  • 

Time,  and  the  funeral  of  Time,  alas ! — and  the 
Old  Year's  passing-bell!  Whistles  from  city  and 
river,  deep  horns  sounding  from  the  foggy  docks ; 
and  under  my  window  a  voice  and  a  song — ah !  that 
young  voice  in  the  street  below  calling  me  through 
the  falling  snow ! 

If  it  be  true  that  Time  makes  all  hurts  well,  I 
do  not  know ;  and  "  a  thousand  years  in  Thy  sight 
is  but  as  yesterday  when  it  is  passed,  and  as  a 
watch  in  the  night  " ;  a  thousand  years !  And  this 
also  is  true;  the  flames  of  love  make  hot  the  fur 
nace  of  Abaddon. 

We  were  in  the  gallery  as  usual,  Geraldine  and 
I — the  gallery  where  the  carpets  of  the  East  were 
hung  along  the  shadowy  walls.  For  lately  it  was 
my  pleasure  to  acquire  rare  rugs,  and  it  was  my 
profession  to  furnish  expert  opinion  upon  the  age 
and  origin  of  Oriental  carpets,  and  to  read  and 
interpret  the  histories  of  forgotten  emperors  and 
the  mysteries  of  long-forgotten  gods  from  the  col 
ors  and  intricate  flowery  labyrinths  tied  in  silk  or 

8 


THE  CARPET  OF  BELSHAZZAR 

wool  to  the  warps  of  some  dead  sultan's  lustrous 
tapestry. 

Here  in  the  long  sky  gallery  hung  my  own  rugs 
against  the  arabesque  incrusted-ivory  panels — Ta 
briz,  Shiraz,  Sehna,  and  Saruk — a  somber  blaze  of 
color  shot  with  fire — all  rare,  some  priceless ; 
Turkish  Kulah,  softly  silky  as  a  golden  lion's  hide, 
Persian  Sehna,  shimmering  with  rose  and  violet 
lights,  fiercely  brilliant  rugs  from  Samarkand, 
superbly  flowered,  secreting  deep  in  every  floral 
thicket  traceries  of  the  ancient  Mongol  conqueror ; 
Feraghans  glowing  like  jewel-sewn  velvets  set  with 
the  Herati  and  the  lotus — symbols  of  Egypt  or  of 
China,  as  you  please  to  interpret  the  oldest  pattern 
in  the  world. 

Far  in  the  gallery's  amber-tinted  gloom  the  red 
of  Ispahan  dominated,  subduing  fiery  vistas  to 
smoldering  harmony  through  which,  like  a  vast 
sapphire  set  in  opals,  glimmered  the  superb  lost 
Persian  blue. 

There  was  one  other  rug,  an  Eighur,  the  famous 
so-called  "  Babilu,"  or  "  Carpet  of  Belshazzar  " ; 
but  it  hung  alone  in  imperial  magnificence  be 
hind  the  locked  doors  of  a  marble  room,  which  it 
seemed  to  fill  with  a  soft  luster  of  its  own,  radiat 
ing  from  the  mystic  "  Tree  of  Heaven  "  woven  in 
its  center. 

9 


THE   TREE   OF  HEAVEN 

We  were,  as  I  say,  in  this  gallery;  Geraldine 
poring  over  an  illuminated  volume  on  cuneiform 
inscriptions,  I,  with  pad  and  pencil,  idly  shifting 
and  reshifting  the  Kufic  key  to  the  ancient  cipher, 
which  always  left  me  stranded  where  I  had  begun 
with  the  stately  repetition: 

((  King  of  Kings — 
King  of  Kings — 
King  of  Kings — " 

As  for  Westover,  my  cousin,  he  was,  as  usual,  in 
the  laboratory  fussing  with  his  venomous  extracts 
— an  occupation  which,  to  my  dismay,  he  had  taken 
up  within  the  year,  working,  as  he  explained,  on 
the  theory  that  every  poison  has  its  antidote.  Yet 
it  seemed  to  me  that  he  was  more  anxious  to  in 
vent  some  new  and  subtle  toxic  than  to  devise  the 
remedy. 

From  where  I  sat  I  could  not  see  him,  but  the 
crystalline  tinkle  of  his  glass  retorts  and  bottles 
distracted  my  attention  from  the  penciled  calcula 
tions.  Without  moving  my  head,  I  glanced  across 
the  room  at  Geraldine.  She  looked  up  immediately, 
raising  her  level  eyebrows  in  mute  inquiry  as 
though  I  had  moved  or  spoken ;  then,  realizing  that 
I  had  not,  she  bent  above  the  book  once  more,  the 
warm  color  stealing  to  her  cheeks. 
10 


THE  CARPET  OF  BELSHAZZAR 

Within  the  year  a  wordless  intimacy  had  grown 
up  between  us;  we  never  understood  it,  never  ac 
knowledged  it,  and  at  times  it  disconcerted  us. 

I  sat  silent,  tracing  with  my  pencil  series  after 
series  of  futile  Kufic  combinations  with  the  cunei 
forms,  but  ever  the  first  turn  of  the  ancient  key 
creaked  in  my  ears, 

"  King  of  Kings — 
King  of  Kings — " 

until  the  triverbal  reiteration  wore  on  my  nerves. 

Geraldine  leaned  back  abruptly,  closing  her  book. 

"  I'm  tired  and  nervous,"  she  said.  "  You  may 
wear  out  your  eyes  and  temper  if  you  choose — and 
you're  doing  the  latter,  for  I'm  as  restless  as  an 
eel.  Besides,  I'm  lonely,  and  I'm  going  back  to  the 
East — if  you'll  come,  too." 

I  laughed,  understanding  what  she  meant  by  the 
"  East." 

"  Will  you  come  with  me  ?  "  she  insisted. 

"  Yes,"  I  said,  "  whenever  you  are  ready." 

She  sprang  to  her  feet,  scattering  the  illumi 
nated  pages  over  the  floor,  and  stood  an  instant 
facing  me,  tall,  dark-eyed,  smiling,  brushing  back 
the  lustrous  hair  from  her  cheeks. 

"  Where  is  Jim?  "  she  asked — although  we  both 
knew. 

11 


THE   TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

"  In  the  laboratory,"  I  replied  mechanically. 

Still  busy  with  her  hair,  she  regarded  me  dream 
ily  out  of  those  dark,  sweet  eyes  of  hers. 

"  It  would  be  wonderful,"  she  mused,  "  if  Jim 
should  find  an  antidote  to  death ;  but  I  wish  it  were 
not  necessary  to  kill  so  many  little  helpless  crea 
tures.  Did  you  hear  that  pitiful  sound  in  there 
yesterday  ?  Was  it  something  he  was  killing  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  I  said.  And  after  a  silence : 
"  What  are  you  going  to  do?  " 

She  shook  her  head  vaguely  and  leaned  against 
the  window,  looking  out  into  the  rain. 

"  Shall  we  go  back  to  our  inscriptions  ?  "  I  sug 
gested. 

She  shook  her  head  again.  After  a  while  she 
turned  away  from  the  window,  stifling  a  dainty 
yawn,  and  stretched  out,  languidly  straightening 
up  to  the  full  height  of  her  young  body. 

"  I  feel  stupid,"  she  said ;  "  I'm  tired  of  crypto 
grams  and  the  pages  of  dusty  books.  I'm  tired  of 
the  rain,  too.  The  languor  of  April  is  in  me.  I'm 
homesick  for  lands  I  never  knew.  So  come  back 
to  the  East  with  me,  Dick." 

She  held  out  her  hand  to  me  with  a  confident 
little  smile;  and  knowing  what  she  meant,  I  ac 
quiesced  in  her  caprice,  and  conducted  her  solemnly 
to  the  piano,  leaving  her  before  it. 
12 


THE  CARPET  OF  BELSHAZZAR 

She  stood  there  for  a  space,  musing,  her  lovely 
head  bent;  then,  still  standing,  she  struck  a  se 
quence  of  chords — chords  pulsating  with  color ; 
and  through  them  flashed  strange  little  trills  like 
threads  of  tinsel. 

"  This  is  an  Eighur  carpet  I  am  dreaming  of," 
she  murmured,  as  the  music  swelled,  glowing  as 
tints  and  hues  glow  in  the  old  dyes  of  the  East. 

Wave  on  wave  of  color  seemed  to  spread  from  the 
keys  under  her  fingers ;  she  looked  back  at  me  over 
her  shoulder  with  a  warning  nod. 

66 1  shall  begin  to  weave  very  soon.  Khiounnou 
horsemen  may  appear  and  frighten  me  for  a  mo 
ment — but  I  shall  finish.  Listen !  I  am  at  the 
loom." 

Seating  herself,  she  developed  out  of  the  flow 
ing,  somber  harmony  a  monotonous  minor  theme, 
suddenly  checked  by  a  distant  rattle  like  the  clatter 
of  nomad  lances  on  painted  stirrups ;  then  she 
picked  up  the  thread  of  the  melody  again,  dropped 
it,  breathless  for  a  moment's  quivering  silence,  re 
sumed  it,  twisting  it  into  delicate  arabesques, 
threading  it  across  the  dull,  rich  harmonies,  at  first 
slowly,  then  faster,  faster,  swift  as  the  flying  fin 
gers  of  a  nomad  maid  tying  fretted  silver  in  a 
Ghiordes  knot.  The  whirring  tempo  was  the 
cadence  of  the  loom ;  soft  feathery  notes  flew  like 
13 


THE   TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

carded  wool;  thicker,  duller,  softer  grew  the 
fabric,  dense,  silky,  heavily  lustrous. 

Suddenly  she  broke  the  thread  off  short,  the 
whole  fabric  falling  with  a  muffled  shock. 

"Why  did  you  do  that?"  I  demanded  wrath- 
fully. 

"  The  rug  is  woven ;  the  weaver  is  dead,"  she 
said. 

"  Oh,  go  on,  Geraldine,"  I  insisted ;  "  don't  stop 
half  way  in  a  thing  like  that.  It's  the  East — it's 
the  real  East,  I  tell  you.  How  you  do  it — you 
who  have  never  seen  the  East — Heaven  only 
knows ! " 

"  U  Allah  Aalem,"  she  murmured ;  "  it's  in  me." 
Then  she  looked  back  at  me,  laughing.  "  Centuries 
ago  you  and  I  heard  that  music  along  the  Arax — 
or  I  sang  it  among  the  Tcherkess  roses  for  you, 
perhaps — perhaps  in  the  gardens  of  Trebizond." 

"  That  might  explain  it,"  I  said  gravely.  Late 
ly  she  had  found  pleasure  in  a  fancy  that  she  and 
I  had  lived  together  in  the  East,  centuries  since, 
and  that  we  were  soon  to  return  forever. 

"  You  and  I,"  she  mused,  touching  the  keys 
lightly — "  and  Jim,  of  course,"  she  added. 

"  Of  course,"  I  said. 

She  dropped  her  head,  striking  chord  on  chord 
with  nervous  precision ;  and  hanging  in  the  wake 


THE  CARPET  OF  BELSHAZZAR 

of  every  ringing  harmony  a  frail  melody  floated 
like  the  Chinese  cloud  band  in  a  Kirman  tapestry. 

"What's  that  air?"  I  asked,  fascinated. 

"  I  don't  know;  it  sounds  pagan,  doesn't  it? — 
like  the  wicked  beauty  of  Babylon.  Do  you  hear 
how  it  beats  on  and  on  like  the  rhythm  of  naked 
feet — little,  delicate,  naked  feet  ablaze  with  gems 
— the  feet  of  Herodiade  perhaps — thud — thud — 
tching! — don't  you  hear  them,  Dick?  And  now 
listen  to  those  silky,  flowery  trills!  They're  Asi 
atic;  ancient  Cathay  is  awaking — camel  bells  in 
the  hazar  of  the  Golden  Emperor!  Hark! — now 
you  hear  trumpets,  don't  you?  Well,  of  course 
that  must  be  the  Mongols  marching  with  the 
Prince  of  the  Vanguard.  Hark!  How  savagely 
the  brutal  Afghan  theme  breaks  in  with  its  fierce 
trampling  and  the  staccato  echo  of  Tekke  drums ! 
It's  frightening  me  out  of  the  East.  I  think 
we  had  better  come  home,  Dick,"  she  added,  mis 
chievously  running  into  the  latest  popular  street 
song. 

"  How  on  earth  could  you  do  that !  "  I  exclaimed 
wrathfully.  "  You're  a  futile  mixture  of  feather 
brain  and  genius !  " 

But  where   was  the  genius   hidden  under  that 
laughing    and    exquisite    mask    confronting    me? 
Suddenly  the  delicate  mask  became  grave. 
15 


THE   TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

"  Let  me  laugh  when  I  can,  Dick,"  she  said.  "  It 
is  not  often  I  laugh." 

I  was  silent. 

"  Of  course  you  may  be  horrid  if  you  choose," 
she  observed  with  a  shrug,  running  a  brilliantly 
inane  series  of  trills  from  end  to  end  of  the  key 
board.  "  But  it's  no  use  scolding,  for  I  won't 
study,  I  won't  compose,  I  won't  '  try  to  do  some 
thing,'  and  I  won't  be  serious.  I'm  shallow,  I'm 
frivolous,  I've  the  soul  of  a  Trebizond  dancing  girl, 
and  I  like  it.  Now  what  are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 

"  I'm  going  out,"  I  said  ungraciously. 

«  Oh— alone?" 

"  Not  if  you'll  come.  It's  stopped  raining. 
Will  you  come?  Oh,  get  your  hat,  Geraldine,  and 
stop  that  torment  of  idiotic  trills !  " 

"  If  Jim  doesn't  mind,  I  think  I'll  go  and  sit  in 
the  laboratory  with  him,"  she  observed  carelessly. 

I  looked  at  her  without  comment. 

"  I  have  a  curious  idea,"  she  continued,  "  that 
he  might  like  to  have  me  around  to-day  while  he 
is  working." 

I  stared  at  her,  but  there  was  no  bitterness  in 
her  tranquil  smile  as  she  leaned  forward,  resting 
her  elbows  on  the  polished  rosewood  case. 

"  So  I  won't  go  with  you,  Dick,"  she  said  slowly. 

One  of  those  intervals  of  restless  silence,  which 
16 


THE  CARPET  OF  BELSHAZZAR 

within  the  year  we  had  learned  to  dread,  menaced 
us  now.  Mute,  motionless,  I  watched  the  soft  color 
deepening  in  her  face,  then,  impatient,  roused  my 
self  and  walked  over  to  the  laboratory.  Westover 
looked  up  as  I  pushed  aside  the  screen. 

"  Will  you  drive  with  us  ?  "  I  asked.  "  The  sun's 
out." 

He  declined,  peering  at  me  through  his  glass 
mask. 

"  Come  on,  Jim,"  I  urged.  "  You've  inhaled 
enough  poison  for  one  day.  Take  off  your  mask 
and  wash  your  hands  and  drive  us  out  to  High 
Bridge.  I'll  telephone  to  the  stable  if  you  say  the 
word,  and  they'll  hook  up  the  new  four.  Is  it  a 
go?" 

"  No,"  he  said  coldly,  and  turned  on  his  heel, 
lifting  a  test  tube  to  the  light. 

He  was  more  taciturn  and  a  trifle  uglier  than 
usual.  I  watched  him  for  a  moment  warming  the 
test  tube  over  a  burner,  then  without  further  par 
ley  replaced  the  screen,  closed  the  double  glass 
doors,  and  walked  back  to  Geraldine. 

"  Doesn't  Jim  care  to  come?  "  she  asked. 

I  said  that  her  husband  appeared  to  be  absorbed 
in  his  work. 

"  Very  well,"  she  said,  with  airy  composure ; 
"trot  along,  Dicky — and  if  you  see  a  bunch  of  jon- 

17 


THE   TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

quils  growing  on  Fifth  Avenue,  you  may  pick 
them  for  me — or  for  that  pretty  girl  you  met  at 
Lakewood " 

"  I'll  send  you  a  bunch  as  big  as  a  bushel." 

"  A  bushel  of  flowers  is  as  compromising  as  a 
declaration,"  she  said.  "  Send  them  to  her." 

"  There's  only  one  way  to  settle  it,"  I  said;  "  I'll 
send  them  to  the  loveliest  girl  in  the  world — 
shall  I?" 

She  assented,  laughing  uncertainly. 

"  I  think  I'll  pay  Jim  a  little  call,"  she  said,  ris 
ing  from  the  piano  and  walking  slowly  toward  the 
laboratory. 

A  few  moments  later  as  I  passed  down  the  broad 
stairway  I  heard  Westover's  penetrating  voice: 
"  Let  that  glass  tube  alone,  Geraldine !  Why  the 
devil  can't  you  keep  your  hands  off  things  when 
you  come  in  here  ?  " 

I  lingered  for  a  while  in  the  hallway,  thinking 
that  she  might  change  her  mind  and  come  down, 
for  she  had  left  the  laboratory  to  her  husband,  and 
I  heard  her  moving  about  in  her  own  apartment. 
She  did  not  come,  and  after  a  little  while  I  left 
the  house,  a  sense  of  apprehension  depressing  me. 

The  asphalt  of  Fifth  Avenue  was  still  wet  with 
the  first  warm  rain  of  April,  but  the  sun  glittered 
18 


THE  CARPET  OF  BELSHAZZAR 

on  window  and  pavement  and  flashed  along  the  pol 
ished  panels  of  carriages  crowding  the  avenue 
from  curb  to  curb.  A  breath  of  spring  had  set 
the  sparrows  chattering  and  chirping;  the  move 
ment  of  the  throng,  the  bright  gowns,  the  fresh 
faces  of  young  girls,  and  the  endless  fa9ades  of 
glass  reflecting  it — all  were  pleasant  to  me,  a  man 
sensitive  to  impressions. 

And  so  in  the  pale  sunshine  I  sauntered  on 
through  the  throng,  now  idling  curiously  by  some 
shop  window  whither  a  display  of  jewels  or  curios 
attracted  me,  now  strolling  on  again  content  with 
the  soft  color  in  sky  and  sunlight. 

I  found  a  florist  whose  shop  windows  were  filled 
with  thickets  of  fragrant,  fragile  spring  flowers ; 
and  every  little  scented  blossom  that  I  touched, 
choosing  the  freshest,  nodded  to  the  voiceless 
cadence  of  a  name  repeated — and :  "  Geraldine ! 
Geraldine !  "  they  nodded,  so  confidently,  so  sweet 
ly,  that  what  was  I  to  do  but  send  them  to  her  ? 

And  so  I  sauntered  on  again,  threading  the 
throng,  half-minded  to  turn  back,  yet  ever  tempted 
on  by  idleness,  until  above  me  the  twin  spires  of  the 
cathedral  glimmered,  all  silvered  in  the  shimmering 
blue. 

Halting,  undecided,  I  presently  became  aware  of 
an  old  man,  his  withered  hands  crossed  before  him, 
19 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

standing  quite  patiently  under  the  cathedral  ter 
race.  Before  him  on  the  sidewalk  rested  a  basket 
draped  with  a  brilliant  rug  or  two  and  heaped  with 
tawdry  rubbish — scarlet  fezzes,  slippers  of  span 
gled  leather,  tasseled  charms  of  gilt,  flimsy  striped 
fabrics — all  the  worthless  flummery  known  as 
"  Oriental  "  to  the  good  peoples  of  the  West. 

Few  stopped  to  look;  no  one  bought.  As  I 
passed  him  his  dimmed  gaze  met  mine ;  all  the  wist- 
fulness  of  the  very  poor,  all  the  mystery  of  the 
very,  very  old,  was  in  his  eyes.  Moved  by  impulse, 
perhaps,  I  spoke  to  him  in  a  low  voice,  using  the 
Turkish  language. 

A  dull  animation  came  into  his  misty  eyes. 

"  Allahou  Ekber,"  he  muttered,  in  a  trembling 
voice ;  "  it  is  sweet  to  hear  your  words,  my  son." 

"  Mussulman,"  I  said,  "  who  are  you  who  recite 
the  Tekbir  here  under  the  spires  of  a  Roman 
church?" 

"  Is  there  harm  in  bearing  witness  to  the  glory 
of  God  here  under  the  minarets  of  your  cathe 
dral  ?  "  he  asked  humbly. 

"  Spire  and  minaret  are  one  to  Him,"  I  said. 
"  Who  are  you,  Mussulman  ?  " 

"  My  name  is  Khassar,"  he  said ;  "  my  nation 
Eighur ;  my  lort  is  the  Issig-Kul ;  Bai'on-Aoul  my 
clan.  I  am  an  Eighur  Turk,  a  Khodja ;  and  I  am 
20 


THE  CARPET  OF  BELSHAZZAR 

able  to  write  the  Turkish  language  in  Arabic  and 
in  Eighur-Mongol  characters." 

"  Reverend  father,"  I  said,  full  of  astonishment 
and  pity,  "  how  should  a  Khodja  of  the  Bai'on-Aoul 
come  to  this?  Even  the  Tekrin  horseman  halts  at 
the  sea." 

"  It  is  written,"  he  said  feebly,  "  that  we  belong 
to  God  and  we  return  to  Him." 

Troubled,  I  stood  there  on  the  sidewalk,  oblivious 
of  the  knot  of  idlers  around  us,  curious  to  hear 
two  men  so  different  conversing  in  a  common 
tongue. 

I  wished  to  give  him  something,  yet  did  not 
venture  to  humiliate  him  without  pretense  of  buy 
ing. 

"  Here  is  my  card,"  I  said,  "  on  which  is  writ 
ten  my  name  and  where  I  live.  Bring  me  these 
rugs  to-night,  ata.  I  wish  to  buy." 

"  You  do  not  desire  them,"  he  said,  shaking  his 
head.  "  You  know  the  East ;  you  understand  these 
rugs;  you  know  they  are  worthless,  acid-washed, 
singed,  rubbed  with  pumice,  smoked — every  vile 
Armenian  practice  used!  You  know  the  dyes  are 
aniline;  that  they  are  loosely  tied,  hastily  and 
flimsily  woven  by  Armenian  dogs  and  sons  of 
dogs.  You  mean  kindness;  you  have  done  me 
enough  by  speaking  to  me." 
21 


THE   TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

He  passed  his  trembling  hand  over  his  ragged 
beard. 

"  You  who  know  carpets  and  love  them,"  he 
quavered ;  "  listen  attentively.  I  have  a  strip  to 
show — not  here — but  I  could  bring  it." 

"  Bring  it,"  I  said  gently. 

He  fumbled  in  the  pocket  of  his  tattered  coat 
and  presently  brought  to  light  a  scrap  of  paper 
on  which  was  scrawled  some  Persian  characters. 

"  It  is  such  a  carpet  as  I  have  never  seen,"  he 
said ;  "  there  is  nothing  in  our  history  or  our  tra 
ditions  to  teach  us  the  meaning  of  this  carpet — 
nothing  save  that  it  is  an  Eighur  rug  inscribed 
in  Persian  and  in  an  unknown  script.  I  have 
traced  the  characters  in  a  single  cartouche.  Read, 
my  son." 

And  I  read,  translating  freely : 

"  Ten  thousand  thousand  stars  shine  down  on  Babylon. 
The  desert  well  reflects  but  one." 

"  I  will  bring  the  carpet,"  he  said,  after  a  si 
lence.  "  I  do  not  know  its  value ;  it  has  no  beauty 
any  longer ;  only  the  ghost  of  ancient  splendor  re 
mains  in  the  thin  knots  clinging  to  warp  and  weft. 
And  it  is  old,  my  son,  older  than  tradition.  Upon 
it  there  is  not  one  sign  to  teach  us  the  mystery  of 
its  meaning." 

22 


THE  CARPET  OF  BELSHAZZAR 

He  peered  at  me  with  his  old,  sad  eyes,  earnestly. 

"  I  will  bring  it,"  he  said.  "  Go  with  Ali,  thou 
fair  comrade  of  Hassan." 

"  May  the  Blessed  Companions  intervene  for 
you,"  I  said. 

And  so  we  parted,  gravely  and  with  circum 
stance,  I  to  stroll  homeward,  touched,  musing  curi 
ously  upon  this  carpet  of  which  a  nomad  Mussul 
man  could  make  nothing.  The  Persian  verse  from 
the  cartouche  interested  me,  too,  the  refrain  linger 
ing  persistently  in  my  memory: 

"  Ten  thousand  thousand  stars  shine  down  on  Babylon. 
The  desert  well  reflects  but  one." 

Never  before,  save  on  the  imperial  carpet  known 
as  Belshazzar's  Rug,  had  I  encountered  any  in 
scription  mentioning  Babylon.  So,  at  the  first 
glance,  the  nomad's  rug  should  have  some  value. 
But  speculation  was  futile — surely  I  ought  to  have 
learned  that  if  unnumbered  disappointments  could 
teach  me  anything. 

Thinking  of  these  things,  I  passed  along  the 
noble  avenue,  retracing  my  steps  to  the  big  dusky 
house  standing  alone,  with  two  old  trees  to  guard 
it — relics,  like  the  mansion,  of  the  great  city's 
infancy — the  last  old  dwelling  left  marooned  amid 
the  arid  wastes  of  commerce.  Here  my  cousin  and 
3  23 


THE   TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

his  wife  lived  with  me  in  winter;  I  with  them  at 
their  Lenox  home  in  summer. 

A  brougham  or  two  at  the  curb  before  the  house 
warned  me  of  clients  waiting  or  of  visitors  for 
Geraldine — doubtless  the  latter,  for  it  was  now 
past  five. 

Under  the  circumstances  I  went  in  to  second 
Geraldine — for  Westover  never  troubled  himself 
to  be  civil  to  her  friends. 

There  were  people  there,  and  tea — and  a  pretty, 
wordless  welcome  from  Geraldine. 

The  violet-tinted  April  dusk  brought  candle 
light;  people  went  away  and  others  came;  then, 
one  by  one,  they  left,  and  we  were  alone,  Geraldine 
and  I — and  the  new  moon  shining  through  the  frail 
curtains.  For  a  long  time  we  talked  together, 
aimlessly,  of  this  and  that  which  mattered  noth 
ing  to  anybody.  A  maid  entered  to  draw  the 
curtains.  When  she  left,  Geraldine  laughed  and 
picked  up  a  cluster  of  yellow  jonquils. 

"  Your  courage  failed  you,  after  all,"  she  said ; 
"  the  loveliest  woman  in  the  world  must  go  with 
out  my  flowers  to-night." 

"  She  has  them,"  I  retorted. 

"  Do  you  mean  me,  Dick?  "  she  said  under  her 
breath. 

"Did  you  doubt  it?" 
24 


THE  CARPET  OF  BELSHAZZAR 

She  bowed  her  head.  Silence,  ever  waiting  to 
ensnare  us,  crept  like  a  shadow  in  between  us. 
And  I  would  not  have  it. 

"  An  old  man  is  to  bring  a  rug  to-night,"  I  said 
abruptly. 

Geraldine  stirred  in  her  armchair,  repeating  in 
a  low  voice: 

"  Ten  thousand  thousand  stars  shine  down  on  Babylon. 
The  desert  well  rejlects  but  one.  Abaddon  none." 

Bolt  upright  in  my  chair  I  listened,  incredulous 
of  my  own  ears. 

"Where  on  earth  did  you  hear  that?"  I  de 
manded. 

"  I  read  it  on  Belshazzar's  Rug  in  cuneiform 
with  the  Kufic  key,"  she  answered,  watching  me. 

"You— all  alone— interpreted  that?"  I  asked, 
astounded. 

"  Yes.  It  is  the  cuneiform  inscription  in  the 
gold  cartouche." 

Profound  astonishment  left  me  silent.  She  lay 
back  in  her  chair  with  a  little  laugh  of  pure  ex 
citement. 

"  After  you  went  out,"  she  said,  "  I  was  hor 
ribly  lonely,  and  I  thought  of  you,  and  then  I 
thought  about  the  work  you  loved — the  cunei 
forms — and — as  Jim  did  not  seem  to  need  me  in 
25 


THE   TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

the  laboratory — I  thought  to  myself :  '  Suppose — 
suppose  by  luck  I  could  unravel  the  inscription  on 
the  gold  cartouche!  Dick  would  be  the  happiest 
man  in  the  world.'  And  then — your — your  flowers 
came,  and  I  sat  for  a  while  alone  with  them.  Then, 
on  impulse,  I  jumped  up  and  took  the  Kufic  tables 
and  all  the  combinations  that  you  and  I  had  tried 
together,  and  I  slipped  upstairs  to  the  marble 
room  and  knelt  down  before  Belshazzar's  Rug.  O 
Dick !  the  Tree  of  Heaven  seemed  to  quiver  in  every 
jeweled  branch  and  leaf! — it  was  only  the  draught 
from  the  closing  door  that  moved  the  rug,  but  the 
mystic  tree  swayed  there  as  the  folds  of  the  car 
pet  moved,  and  I  seemed  to  feel  the  mystery  of  the 
Prophet's  Paradise  stealing  into  me,  penetrating 
me  like  the  incense  of  forbidden  wine — and  I — 
I  felt  very  Eastern  and  very  pagan,  kneeling  there. 
"  It  was  strange,  too ;  the  intricate  Kufic  key 
seemed  to  be  falling  into  place  of  its  own  impulse, 
symbol  after  symbol  promising  a  linked  symmetry 
of  sense,  until,  almost  before  I  was  conscious  of 
the  miracle,  it  had  been  wrought  there  in  the  mar 
ble  room ;  and  my  eyes  were  opened ;  and  I,  kneel 
ing  before  the  Tree  of  Heaven,  read  quite  clearly 
what  is  written  in  the  gold  cartouche  on  the  great 
carpet  of  Belshazzar.  Dick !  I  prayed  so  hard  that 
I  might  read  it.  And  I  have  read  it — for  you !  " 
26 


THE  CARPET  OF  BELSHAZZAB 

In  the  eloquence  of  her  emotion  she  had  risen, 
holding  out  both  hands  to  me;  I  caught  them, 
crushing  them  to  my  lips. 

Ominous  pulsating  silence  grew  between  us ;  her 
fingers  relaxed  and  her  hands  fell  from  my  lips. 
The  stillness,  intense,  absolute,  became  a  tension, 
a  growing  resistless  force  pressing  us  apart,  slow 
ly,  inexorably  driving  me  back  step  by  step  against 
the  silk-hung  wall,  which  I  reached  for,  groping, 
steadying  myself. 

Never  before  had  we  been  so  swayed,  so  thrilled ; 
never  before  had  we  been  so  reckless  of  the  peril. 
Over  us  a  magic  snare  had  fallen,  and  we  had 
evaded  it — an  unseen  and  delicate  web,  enmeshing 
us,  drawing  us  together  limb  to  limb,  body  to  body, 
soul  to  soul,  there  on  the  kindling  edges  of  destruc 
tion. 

She  sank  back  into  the  deep  seat  by  the  win 
dow,  her  white  hands  tightening  on  the  gilded 
foliation  of  the  chair's  carved  arms.  And  I  saw 
how  pale  her  face  was  and  how  her  dark  eyes  were 
fixed  steadily  upon  the  floor  as  though  destruction 
was  a  pit  whose  edge  lay  at  her  feet. 

Presently  I  became  aware  that  the  world  out 
side  the  curtained  windows  was  moving  still — had 
perhaps  never  halted  on  its  way  to  wait  upon  our 
27 


THE   TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

fate.  And,  crossing  the  room,  I  raised  the  shade 
and  saw  the  new  moon,  low  in  the  sky,  kneeling  amid 
the  watching  stars.  Yellow  rays  from  a  street 
lamp  illuminated  the  old  trees'  foliage,  edging  with 
palest  fire  the  tracery  of  newborn  leaves,  tufting 
each  stem  and  twig,  exquisite,  delicately  formal  as 
the  leafy  labyrinths  of  the  Tree  of  Heaven  spread 
ing  above  the  flowery  field  of  Belshazzar's  Rug. 

Khassar  the  nomad  had  come  and  gone,  and  his 
rug  hung  in  the  marble  room,  pale  as  the  tinted 
shadow  cast  by  the  great  carpet  of  Belshazzar. 

The  nomad's  rug  was  clean  but  very  ancient, 
and  so  worn,  so  time-eaten  to  the  very  warp,  that 
the  Kherdeh  was  all  but  obliterated  in  the  metnih. 
But  outside  of  that,  between  the  outside  band  and 
the  ara,  or  central  line,  there  were  traces  of  ancient 
glory  and  dimmed  outlines  of  design;  and  I  saw 
the  twelve  cartouches  inscribed  alternately  in  Per 
sian  and  in  cuneiform  characters.  There,  too,  were 
the  worn  remains  of  floral  thickets  haunted  of 
beast  and  bird,  intricate  allegories,  chronicles  in 
color  and  symbol,  every  leaf,  every  blossom,  every 
creature  fraught  with  mystic  meaning;  and  there 
also,  still  faintly  to  be  made  out,  the  shadowy 
foliage  of  the  Tree  of  Heaven. 

"  How  much  did  you  pay  for  that  ghost  of  a 
28 


THE  CARPET  OF  BELSHAZZAR 

rug?  "  demanded  Westover,  who  had  followed  me 
upstairs  after  dressing  for  dinner. 

When  I  told  him  he  shrugged  his  shoulders,  but 
made  no  comment.  A  moment  later  Geraldine  en 
tered,  and  his  small  eyes,  no  longer  furtive,  became 
fixed  and  dull. 

"They  say  in  the  East,"  I  remarked,  "that 
when  all  color  is  gone  from  an  Eighur  rug  a  lost 
soul  takes  it  for  its  abode.  Eighur  women  are 
supposed  to  have  souls  occasionally,  and  to  lose 
them  now  and  then." 

"  There  are  plenty  of  lost  souls  in  town,"  ob 
served  Westover ;  "  no  doubt  you'll  have  your 
choice  of  tenants  for  your  carpet — or,"  he  added, 
staring  at  space,  "  if  you  like  I'll  provide  you." 

I  did  not  understand  his  remark,  but  it  left  a 
vaguely  sinister  impression.  Geraldine,  standing 
between  us,  her  white  fingers  linked  behind  her, 
looked  up  at  me  very  gravely. 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  said,  "  that  I  am  convinced 
that  I  wove  that  rug  some  centuries  ago  ?  " 

"  I  have  no  doubt  of  it,"  I  replied,  smiling. 

"  Do  you  doubt  it,  Jim  ?  "  she  asked  gayly. 

He  did  not  reply. 

"  As  a  matter  of  fact,"  I  said,  "  it  was  always 
believed  that  a  young  girl  who  dared  to  weave  the 
Tree  of  Heaven  into  an  Eighur  carpet  died  when 
29 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

her  task  was  ended — her  entire  physical  and  spir 
itual  vitality  entering  into  the  sacred  tree  and  in 
fusing  it  with  mystic  splendor." 

"  Oh,  I  died  as  you  say,"  observed  Geraldine 
gravely. 

"  I  don't  see  that  you  infused  much  physical  or 
spiritual  splendor  into  that  rug,"  observed  West- 
over. 

"  I  must  die  again,  you  know,  Jim,  and  bring 
its  vanished  beauty  back,"  she  said  gayly.  "  Shall 
I,  Dick? — and  leave  you  a  priceless  carpet  as  my 
bequest  and  monument  ?  " 

Westover  turned  on  his  heel,  fidgeting  with  his 
collar.  Recently  his  neck  had  grown  fat  behind  the 
ears. 

A  few  moments  later  dinner  was  announced. 

We  lingered  late  over  dinner,  I  remember.  Jim 
drank  heavily — a  habit  which  both  Geraldine  and 
I  had  long  since  left  unnoticed,  she  shrinking  from 
the  sullen  rebuff  certain  to  follow  even  a  playful 
protest,  I  understanding  the  utter  hopelessness 
of  interference.  His  mind,  already  shaken, 
would  one  day  shatter,  and  the  dreadful  price  be 
paid. 

As  he  sat  there  sousing  walnuts  in  port,  in  his 
altered  features  and  swollen  hands  I  seemed  to 
divine  something  malicious  and  patient  and  pow- 
30 


THE  CARPET  OF  BELSHAZZAR 

erful — that  indescribable  physical  menace  one 
feels  in  the  inert  brooding  eye  of  the  mentally  and 
spiritually  crippled. 

When  Geraldine  rose  he  stood  up  unsteadily. 
After  she  had  gone  he  lighted  a  cigar  and  turned 
his  bloodshot  eyes  on  me. 

"  Is  that  wine  expensive?  "  he  demanded,  point 
ing  to  Geraldine's  half -empty  glass. 

"  Rather,"  I  said. 

He  picked  up  the  glass,  examined  it,  sniffing  at 
the  contents. 

"  It's  poor  claret,"  he  said.  "  Taste  it.  It's 
pure  poison,  I  tell  you." 

"  I'm  sorry,"  I  said  indifferently. 

Again  he  sniffed  it.  "  Faugh !  "  he  sneered,  and 
threw  it  into  the  fireplace  behind  him.  Then  he 
got  on  his  feet,  heavily,  muttering  to  himself,  and 
stumbled  off  through  the  drawing-room. 

For  a  while  I  sat  there  amid  the  shaded  candles, 
staring  at  space.  But  I  could  not  read  the  future 
pictured  there  amid  the  empty  chairs  and  the  flow 
ers,  already  drooping  in  each  crystal  vase. 

When  at  length  I  roused  myself  and  went  up 
stairs,  passing  her  apartment  I  heard  her  singing 
to  herself,  and  I  wondered  that  she  could. 

I  paused  on  the  gallery  stairway  to  listen;  and 
she  could  not  have  heard  my  footsteps  on  the  thick 
31 


THE   TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

deep  carpeting,  yet  she  came  to  the  door  and 
opened  it,  looking  up  at  me  where  I  stood. 

"  You  are  going  to  the  marble  room.  May  I 
come  and  help  you  ?  "  she  asked  sweetly.  And  as 
I  was  silent,  she  said  again :  "  Let  me  be  happy, 
won't  you,  Dick?  Let  me  be  where  you  are." 

"  Have  I  ever  avoided  you,  Geraldine  ?  " 

I  descended  the  steps,  she  laid  her  hand  lightly 
on  my  arm,  and  together  we  mounted  the  stairway 
toward  the  gallery. 

"  I  was  singing  a  Hillah  tent  song  when  you 
passed,"  she  said,  "  partly  because  I  was  lonely, 
and  partly  " — she  hesitated,  looking  around  at 
me  — "  partly  because  I've  come  to  the  conclu 
sion,  Dick,  that  I  was  once  at  Belshazzar's 
feast  in  Cadimirra — for  there's  a  great  deal  of 
wickedness  in  me — you'd  never  believe  it,  would 
you?" 

She  smiled  at  me  so  innocently,  so  adorably,  that 
I  laughed  outright. 

"  I've  heard  that  the  maids  of  Babilu-Ki  had  a 
bowing  acquaintance  with  the  devil,"  I  said. 
"  Even  an  Eighur  girl  nodded  pleasantly  to  Erlik 
now  and  then — according  to  the  chronicles  of  the 
Tekrins." 

"  Oh,  they  surely  did,"  she  said.  And,  "  Thank 
you,  Dick,"  she  added,  as  we  reached  the  gallery ; 
32 


THE  CARPET  OF   BELSHAZZAR 

"  when  I  am  an  old  woman  you  must  help  me  up 
the  steep  places." 

"  It  is  you  who  help  me,"  I  said  lightly. 

She  stood,  resting  her  arm  on  the  table  while  I 
gathered  up  the  mass  of  papers  containing  our 
cuneiform  combinations  and  the  Kufic  key. 

"  All  that  is  useless,"  she  said  suddenly.  Her 
manner  and  smile  had  altered. 

I  looked  up  in  surprise,  and  at  the  same  instant 
she  pushed  the  papers  from  beneath  my  hands. 

"  The  memory  of  things  forgotten  centuries 
ago  has  returned  to  me,"  she  said  feverishly.  "  I 
am  a  pagan  again.  It  was  Istar  who  first  taught 
my  hands  to  weave  and  my  fingers  to  tie  the  Sehna 
knot.  I  wove  that  carpet ;  what  I  have  woven 
there  I  can  read.  Why  do  you  laugh?  Will  you 
believe  me  if  I  translate  the  mystery  of  each 
inscription  as  easily  as  I  read  the  gold  car 
touche?  Come;  we  shall  never  need  those  papers 
again." 

What  new  caprice  was  this?  She  was  smiling, 
almost  fixedly,  and  I  thought  that  there  was  some 
thing  in  her  overflushed  face  and  in  the  starlike 
brilliancy  of  her  eyes  not  quite  normal.  At  the 
same  moment  the  electric  lights  in  the  laboratory 
went  out.  Westover  was  evidently  in  there.  I 
waited,  expecting  him  to  appear,  but  he  did  not. 
33 


THE   TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

Again  I  reached  for  the  papers,  but  Geraldine 
scattered  them  with  a  quick  sweep  of  her  hand. 

"  Won't  you  believe  me  ?  Won't  you  let  me 
try?"  she  repeated  almost  impatiently. 

With  a  quick  movement  she  bent  forward  past 
me  and  shut  off  the  lights  in  the  gallery  where  we 
stood.  Another  second,  and  the  lights  in  the  mar 
ble  room  broke  out  fiercely ;  and  there,  full  in  the 
dazzling  glory,  I  saw  the  great  carpet  of  Belshaz- 
zar  hanging,  and  beside  it  the  Eighur  rug — a 
pallid  shadow  on  the  wall. 

Geraldine,  hands  clasped  to  her  scarlet  mouth, 
dark  eyes  fixed,  moved  forward  slowly,  opalescent 
tints  flashing  on  her  smooth  bare  arms  and  shoul 
ders,  her  head  a  delicate  silhouette  against  the 
glare. 

I  followed,  pausing  at  her  side,  and  we  stood 
silently  before  the  miracle,  the  great  folds  gently 
stirring  in  some  unfelt  current;  and  I  saw  the 
upper  branches  of  the  Tree  of  Heaven  sway,  and 
a  thousand  leaves,  all  glistening,  quiver  and  sub 
side. 

"  One  can  almost  hear  the  rustling  of  the 
leaves,"  I  whispered. 

"  I  hear  more  than  that,"  she  murmured.  "  I 
hear  my  soul  bidding  me  good-by." 

She  smiled  dreamily,  turning  to  the  faded 
34 


THE  CARPET  OF  BELSHAZZAR 

Eighur    carpet,    and    stepping    back    one    pace, 
dropped  her  left  arm,  clasping  my  hand  in  hers. 

"  It  was  I  who  wove  that  carpet — I,  maid  of 
the  Issig-Kul — and  it  was  you,  beloved  of  Hassan, 
who  inspired  it." 

"What  are  you  saying,  Geraldine?  "  I  began 
uneasily ;  "  where  did  you  ever  hear  my  name 
linked  with  the  name  of  Hassan  ?  " 

Her  palm  was  burning  hot,  her  eyes  too  bright. 
The  fever  of  caprice  possessed  her,  and  her  imagi 
nation  was  running  riot. 

There  was  a  silence,  through  which  a  distant 
sound  penetrated — the  faint  ring  of  glass  some 
where  in  the  laboratory.  Westover  was  tying  on 
his  crystal  mask. 

She  heard  it,  too,  and  she  turned,  looking  me 
full  in  the  eyes. 

"  Dick,"  she  said,  "  he  has  slain  my  body.  My 
soul  is  bidding  me  good-by." 

"  It  is  my  own  that  he  is  dragging  to  destruc 
tion,  not  yours,"  I  muttered. 

But  she  only  clasped  my  hand  tighter,  the  fixed 
smile  stamped  on  her  lips. 

"  Listen,"  she  whispered,  raising  her  arm. 
"  This  is  what  is  written  in  the  rose  cartouche 
on  the  Eighur  carpet  that  I  made : 

'  Roses  of  Baby Ion  :  Ashes  of  roses  in  Abaddon.' 

35 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

Love  and  its  awful  penalty,  Dick — and  the  warn 
ing  I  wove,  coffined  in  cryptogram !  Listen 
again.  The  cartouche  below  was  once  topaz — for 
I  wove  it — I ! 

<  All  Paradise  the  cost  : 
Warp  and  weft  for  souls  so  lost.* 

— Mine,  Dick,  mine! — lost  in  loving  as  I  loved, 
centuries  since.  I  have  no  soul ;  I  have  never 
had  any  since  I  lost  it  then.  It  is  there,  tenanting 
the  phantom  of  an  Eighur  carpet.  Do  you  not 
understand?  There  is  my  faded  monument  and 
refuge — that  magic-woven  sanctuary — that  hid 
ing  place  from  hell !  " 

Her  little  feverish  fingers  tightened  convulsively 
in  mine;  the  color  flamed  in  her  cheeks.  Sud 
denly  she  crushed  our  clasped  hands  to  her  heart, 
and  I  felt  it  leaping  madly. 

"Geraldine,"  I  stammered,  "what  is  all  this 
ghastly  nonsense  ?  Are  you  ill  ?  " 

"  Listen !  Listen  !  "  she  whispered ;  "  the  next 
cartouche  was  blue — the  lost  Persian  blue!  I 
know ;  why  should  I  not  know — I  who  wove  it  cen 
turies  ago?  And  thus  it  reads,  O  thou  whom  I 
loved  to  my  destruction — thou  whom  I  love! 

'  Time  and  the  Guest 
Shall  meet  me  twice — once  East,  once  West.' 

36 


THE  CARPET  OF  BELSHAZZAR 

"  Ah,  prophetess  was  I  by  Istar's  favor — seeing 
I  died  for  love.  Do  you  not  understand,  Dick? 
Time  and  the  Guest! — the  Guest  is  Death — the 
Guest  we  all  must  entertain  one  day — and  I  twice 
— once  in  the  East,  once  here  in  the  West — here, 
now!" 

"  Geraldine,  are  you  mad  ?  "  I  whispered ;  "  look 
at  me ! — turn  and  look  at  me,  I  say !  " 

But  she  shivered  in  my  arms,  whispering  that 
she  was  ransoming  her  soul  and  mine.  A  distant 
sound  broke  from  the  laboratory,  and  we  listened. 

"  Hush,  beloved,"  she  said  breathlessly ;  "  the 
last  cartouche  is  black!  And  this  is  written 

'Soul,  lotus-sealed, 
Receive — thy — Paradise — '  " 

Her  voice  died  out;  a  terrible  pallor  struck 
her  face ;  she  swayed  where  she  stood,  the  smile 
frozen  on  her  bloodless  lips. 

As  I  caught  her  to  me,  her  head  fell  straight 
back  and  her  body  sank  a  dead  weight  in  my  arms. 
Then  a  dreadful  thing  occurred;  the  faded  an 
cient  tapestry  glowed  out  like  a  live  ember,  kin 
dling  from  end  to  end,  brighter,  fiercer,  flaming 
into  living  fire ;  and  the  phantom  Tree  of  Heaven, 
flashing,  superbly  jeweled,  burst  into  magnificent 
florescence. 

37 


THE   TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

Blinded,  almost  stupefied,  I  staggered  back,  but 
the  straining  cry  died  in  my  throat  as  a  voice  is 
strangled  in  dreadful  dreams.  Again  I  strove  to 
shout.  The  rug,  glowing  like  a  living  ember, 
slowly  faded  before  my  eyes.  Suddenly  the  last 
spark  went  out  in  a  shower  of  whitening  ashes. 

Again  I  strove  to  cry  out :  "  Jim !  Jim !  "  but 
my  lips  stiffened  with  horror  as  I  listened.  For 
he  was  somewhere  there  in  the  darkness,  laughing. 

"  It  was  in  her  wine,"  he  chuckled — "  and  I  saw 
her  kiss  the  glass  and  look  at  you ! — and  you, 
there,  staring  at  nothing !  Stare  at  it  now !  " 

And  again :  "  Do  you  think  I  have  never  watched 
her? — and  you?  Now  she's  in  hell,  and  we'll  race 
for  her  on  even  terms  once  more." 

Silence:  a  low,  insane  laugh,  cut  by  a  report 
and  the  crash  of  glass  as  he  fell,  shattering  his 
masked  face  upon  the  floor. 

After  a  long  while  I  spoke,  listening  intently. 
Then  I  took  up  my  burden. 

And  there  was  no  sound  save  the  soft  stirring 
of  her  silken  gown  as  I  bore  her  through  the 
darkness,  my  cold  lips  pressed  to  hers. 

*  #  #  #  * 

He  has  never  returned  to  America,  but  now  that 
the  time  has  come  for  me  to  fulfill  my  part,  I  do 
so,  setting  down  what  I  know  and  what  occult  in- 
38 


THE  CARPET  OF  BELSHAZZAR 

formation  I  have  received  in  letters  from  him,  of 
the  strange  fate  which  overtook,  separately,  each 
and  every  man  present  at  that  farewell  dinner  at 
the  Lenox  Club. 

My  own  fate  is  stranger  still — to  record  these 
facts  and  take  my  position  as  his  historian  and 
his  disciple. 


39 


CHAPTER    II 

THE    SIGN    OF    VENUS 

IN  the  card  room  the  game,  which  had  started 
from  a  chance  suggestion,  bid  fair  to  develop 
into  an  all-night  seance :  the  young  foreign  diplo 
mat  had  shed  his  coat  and  lighted  a  fresh  cigar ; 
somebody  threw  a  handkerchief  over  the  face  of 
the  clock,  and  a  sleepy  club  servant  took  reserve 
orders  for  two  dozen  siphons  and  other  details. 

"  That  lets  me  out,"  said  Hetherford,  rising 
from  his  chair  with  a  nod  at  the  dealer.  He  tossed 
his  cards  on  the  table,  settled  side  obligations 
with  the  man  on  his  left,  yawned,  and  put  on 
his  hat. 

Somebody  remonstrated :  "  It's  only  two  o'clock, 
Hetherford ;  you  have  no  white  man's  burden  sit 
ting  up  for  you  at  home." 

But  Hetherford  shook  his  head,  smiling. 

So  a  servant  removed  his  chair,  another  man 
cut  in,  the  dealer  dealt  cards  all  around.  Pres 
ently  from  somewhere  in  the  smoke  haze  came  a 
40 


THE   SIGN   OF    VENUS 

voice,  "  Hearts."     And  a  quiet  voice  retorted,  "  I 
double  it." 

Hetherford  lingered  a  moment,  then  turned  on 
his  heel,  sauntered  out  across  the  hallway  and 
down  the  stairs  into  the  court,  refusing  with  a 
sign  the  offered  cab. 

Breathing  deeply,  yawning  once  or  twice,  he 
looked  up  at  the  stars.  The  night  air  refreshed 
him;  he  stood  a  moment,  thoughtfully  contem 
plating  his  half-smoked  cigar,  then  tossed  it  away 
and  stepped  out  into  the  street. 

The  street  was  quiet  and  deserted;  darkened 
brownstone  mansions  stared  at  him  through  som 
ber  windows  as  he  passed ;  his  footsteps  echoed 
across  the  pavement  like  the  sound  of  footsteps 
following. 

His  progress  was  leisurely ;  the  dreary  monot 
ony  of  the  house  fronts  soothed  him.  He  whis 
tled  a  few  bars  of  a  commonplace  tune,  crossed 
the  deserted  avenue  under  the  electric  lamps,  and 
entered  the  dimly  lighted  street  beyond. 

Here  all  was  silence;  the  doors  of  many  houses 
were  boarded  up — sign  that  their  tenants  had 
migrated  to  the  country.  No  shadowy  cat  fled 
along  the  iron  railings  at  his  approach;  no  night 
watchman  prowled  in  deserted  dooryards  or  peered 
at  him  from  obscurity. 

41 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

Strolling  at  ease,  thoughts  nowhere,  he  had 
traversed  half  the  block,  when  an  opening  door 
and  a  glimmer  of  light  across  the  sidewalk  at 
tracted  his  attention. 

As  he  approached  the  house  from  whence  the 
light  came,  a  figure  suddenly  appeared  on  the 
stoop — a  girl  in  a  white  ball  gown — hastily  de 
scending  the  stone  steps.  Gaslight  from  the  door 
way  tinted  her  bared  arms  and  shoulders.  She 
tent  her  graceful  head  and  gazed  earnestly  at 
Hetherford. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  she  almost  whispered ; 
"  might  I  ask  you  to  help  me?  " 

Hetherford  stopped  and  wheeled  short. 

"  I — I  really  beg  your  pardon,"  she  said,  "  but 
I  am  in  such  distress.  Could  I  ask  you  to  find  me 
a  cab?" 

"  A  cab !  "  he  repeated  uncertainly ;  "  why,  yes 
— I  will  with  pleasure — "  He  turned  and  looked 
up  and  down  the  deserted  street,  slowly  lifting 
his  hand  to  his  short  mustache.  "  If  you  are  in 
a  hurry,"  he  said,  "  I  had  better  go  to  the  nearest 
stables " 

"  But  there  is  something  more,"  she  said,  in  a 
tremulous  voice ;  "  could  you  get  me  a  wrap — a 
cloak — anything  to  throw  over  my  gown?" 

He  looked  up  at  her,  bewildered.  "  Why,  I 
42 


THE   SIGN   OF   VENUS 

don't  believe  I — "  he  began,  then  fell  silent  before 
her  troubled  gaze.  "  I'll  do  anything  I  can  for 
you,"  he  said  abruptly.  "  I  have  a  raincoat  at 
the  club — if  your  need  is  urgent " 

"  It  is  urgent ;  but  there  is  something  else — 
something  more  urgent,  more  difficult  for  me  to 
ask  you.  I  must  go  to  Willow  Brook — I  must  go 
now,  to-night !  And  I — I  have  no  money." 

"  Do  you  mean  Willow  Brook  in  Westchester  ?  " 
he  asked,  astonished.  "  There  is  no  train  at  this 
hour  of  the  morning !  " 

"  Then — then  what  am  I  to  do  ?  "  she  faltered. 
"  I  cannot  stay  another  moment  in  that  house." 

After  a  silence  he  said :  "  Are  you  afraid  of 
anybody  in  that  house  ?  " 

"  There  is  nobody  in  the  house,"  she  said  with 
a  shudder ;  "  my  mother  is  in  Westchester ;  all  the 
household  are  there.  I — I  came  back — a  few  mo 
ments  ago — unexpectedly — "  She  stammered  and 
winced  under  his  keen  scrutiny ;  then  the  pallor  of 
utter  despair  came  into  her  cheeks,  and  she  hid 
her  white  face  in  her  hands. 

Hetherford  watched  her  for  a  moment. 

"  I  don't  exactly  understand,"  he  said  gently, 

"  but  I'll  do  anything  I  can  for  you.     I'll  go  to 

the  club  and  get  my  raincoat ;  I'll  go  to  the  stables 

and  get  a  cab ;  I  haven't  any  money  with  me,  but 

43 


THE   TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

it  would  take  only  a  few  minutes  for  me  to  drive 
to  the  club  and  get  some.  .  .  .  Please  don't  be 
distressed ;  I'll  do  anything  you  desire." 

She  dropped  her  arms  with  a  hopeless  gesture. 

"  But  you  say  there  is  no  train !  " 

"  You  could  drive  to  the  house  of  some  of  your 
friends " 

"  No,  no !  Oh,  my  friends  must  never  know  of 
this!" 

"  I  see,"  he  said  gravely. 

"  No,  you  don't  see,"  she  said  unsteadily.  "  The 
truth  is  that  I  am  almost  frightened  to  death." 

"  Can  you  not  tell  me  what  has  frightened 
you  so  ?  " 

"  If  I  tried  to  tell  you,  you  would  think  me 
mad — you  would  indeed " 

"  Try,"  he  said  soothingly. 

"  Why — why,  it  startled  me  to  find  myself  in 
this  house,"  she  began.  "  You  see,  I  didn't  expect 
to  come  here;  I  didn't  really  want  to  come  here," 
she  added  piteously.  "  Oh,  it  is  simply  dreadful 
to  come — like  this !  "  She  glanced  fearfully  over 
her  shoulder  at  the  lighted  doorway  above,  then 
turned  to  Hetherford  as  though  dazed. 

"  Tell  me,"  he  said  in  a  quiet  voice. 

«  Yes— I'll  tell  you.    At  first  it  was  all  dark— 
but  I  must  have  known  I  was  in  my  own  room, 
44 


THE   SIGN   OF    VENUS 

for  I  felt  around  on  the  dresser  for  the  matches 
and  lighted  a  candle.  And  when  I  saw  that  it  was 
truly  my  own  room,  and  when  I  caught  sight  of 
my  own  face  in  the  mirror,  it  terrified  me — "  She 
pressed  her  fingers  to  her  cheeks  with  a  shudder. 
"  Then  I  ran  downstairs  and  lighted  the  gas  in 
the  hall  and  peered  into  the  mirror;  and  I  saw  a 
face  there — a  face  like  my  own " 

Pale,  voiceless,  she  leaned  on  the  bronze  balus 
trade,  fair  head  drooping,  lids  closed. 

Presently,  eyes  still  closed,  she  said :  "  You  will 
not  leave  me  alone  here — will  you — "  Her  voice 
died  to  a  whisper. 

"  No — of  course  not,"  he  replied  slowly. 

There  was  an  interval  of  silence ;  she  passed  her 
hand  across  her  eyes  and  raised  her  head,  looking 
up  at  the  stars. 

"  You  see,"  she  murmured,  "  I  dare  not  be 
alone;  I  dare  not  lose  touch  with  the  living.  I 
suppose  you  think  me  mad,  but  I  am  not ;  I  am 
only  stunned.  Please  stay  with  me." 

"  Of  course,"  he  said  in  a  soothing  voice. 
"  Everything  will  come  out  all  right " 

"  Are  you  sure?  " 

"  Perfectly.  I  don't  quite  know  what  to 
say  —  how  to  reassure  you  and  offer  you  any 

help " 

45 


THE   TREE   OF  HEAVEN 

He  fell  silent,  standing  there  on  the  sidewalk, 
worrying  his  short  mustache.  The  situation  was 
a  new  one  to  him. 

"  Suppose,"  he  suggested,  "  that  you  try  to 
take  a  little  rest.  I'll  sit  down  on  the  steps " 

She  looked  at  him  in  wide-eyed  alarm.  "  Do 
you  mean  that  I  should  go  into  that  house — 
alone!" 

"  Well — you  oughtn't  to  stand  on  the  steps  all 
night.  It  is  nearly  three  o'clock.  You  are 
frightened  and  nervous.  Really  you  must  go  in 
and " 

"  Then  you  must  come,  too,"  she  said  desper 
ately.  "  This  nightmare  is  more  than  I  can  en 
dure  alone.  I'm  not  a  coward;  none  of  my  race 
is.  But  I  need  a  living  being  near  me.  Will 
you  come  ?  " 

He  bowed.  She  turned,  hastily  gathering  her 
filmy  gown,  and  mounted  the  shadowy  steps  with 
out  a  sound;  and  he  followed  leisurely,  even  per 
haps  warily,  every  sense  alert. 

He  was  prepared  to  see  the  end  of  this  encoun 
ter — see  it  through  to  an  explanation  if  it  took 
all  summer.  Of  the  situation,  however,  and  of 
her,  he  had  so  far  ventured  no  theory.  The  type 
of  woman  and  the  situation  were  perfectly  new  to 
him.  He  was  aware  that  anything  might  happen 
46 


THE   SIGN   OF    VENUS 

in  New  York,  and,  closing  the  heavy  front  door, 
he  was  ready  for  it. 

The  hall  gas  jets  were  burning  brightly,  and 
in  the  darkened  drawing-room  he  could  distin 
guish  the  heavy  outlines  of  furniture  cased  in 
dust  coverings. 

She  asked  him  to  strike  a  match  and  light  the 
sconces  in  the  drawing-room,  and  he  did  so,  curi 
osity  now  thoroughly  aroused. 

As  the  gas  flared  up,  shrouded  pictures  and 
furniture  sprang  into  view  surrounding  him,  and 
in  the  dusk  of  the  room  beyond  he  saw  a  ray  of 
light  glimmering  on  the  foliated  carving  of  a 
gilded  harp. 

Slowly  he  turned  to  the  girl  beside  him.  A 
warm  shadow  dimmed  her  delicate  features,  yet 
they  were  the  loveliest  he  had  ever  looked  upon. 

Suddenly  he  understood  the  mute  message  of 
her  eyes :  "  My  imprudence  places  me  at  your 
mercy." 

"  Your  helplessness  places  me  at  yours,"  he 
said  aloud,  scarcely  conscious  that  he  had  spoken. 

At  that  a  bright  flush  transfigured  her.  "  I 
trusted  you  the  moment  I  saw  you,"  she  said 
impulsively.  "  Do  you  mind  sitting  there  op 
posite  me?  I  shall  take  this  chair — rather  near 
you " 

47 


THE   TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

She  sank  into  an  armchair ;  and,  touched  and  a 
trifle  amused,  he  seated  himself,  at  a  little  nod 
from  her,  awaiting  her  further  pleasure. 

She  lay  there  for  a  minute  or  two  without 
speaking,  rounded  arms  resting  on  the  gilt  arms 
of  the  chair,  eyes  thoughtfully  studying  him. 

"  I've  simply  got  to  tell  you  everything,"  she 
said  at  length. 

"  It  can  do  no  harm,  I  think,"  he  replied 
pleasantly. 

"  No ;  no  harm.  The  harm  has  been  done.  Yet, 
with  you  sitting  there  so  near  me,  I  am  not  fright 
ened  now.  It  is  curious,"  she  mused,  "  that  I 
should  feel  no  apprehension  now.  And  yet — and 
yet " 

She  leaned  toward  him,  dropping  her  linked 
fingers  in  her  lap. 

"  Tell  me,  did  you  ever  hear  of  the  Sign  of 
Venus  ? — the  Signum  Veneris  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I've  heard  of  it — yes,"  he  replied,  surprised. 
And  as  she  said  nothing,  he  went  on :  "  The  dis 
tinguished  gentleman  who  occupies  the  chair  of 
Applied  Psychics  at  the  university  lectures  on  the 
Sign  of  Venus,  I  believe." 

"  Did  you  attend  the  lectures  ? "  she  asked 
calmly. 

He  said  he  had  not,  smiling  a  trifle. 
48 


THE   SIGN   OF    VENUS 

"  I  did." 

"  They  were  probably  amusing,"  he  ventured. 

"  Not  very.  Psychic  phenomena  bored  me ;  I 
went  during  Lent.  Psychic  phenomena — "  She 
hesitated,  embarrassed  at  his  amusement.  "  I 
suppose  you  laugh  at  that  sort  of  thing." 

"  No,  I  don't  laugh  at  it.  Queer  things  occur, 
they  say.  All  I  know  is  that  I  myself  have  never 
seen  anything  happen  that  could  not  be  explained 
by  natural  laws." 

"  I  have,"  she  said. 

He  bent  his  head  in  polite  acquiescence. 

"  I  went  to  the  lectures,"  she  said.  "  I  am  not 
very  intellectual;  nothing  he  said  interested  me 
very  much — which  was,  of  course,  suitable  for  a 
Lenten  amusement." 

She  leaned  a  little  nearer,  small  hands  tightly 
interlaced  on  her  knee. 

"  His  lecture  on  the  Sign  of  Venus  was  the 
last."  She  lifted  a  white  finger,  drawing  the 
imaginary  Signum  Veneris  in  the  air.  Hether- 
ford  nodded  gravely. 

"  The  lecture,"  she  continued,  "  ended  with  an 
explanation  of  the  Sign  of  Venus — how,  contem 
plating  it  by  starlight,  one  might  pass  into  that 
physical  unconsciousness  which  leaves  the  mind 
free  to  control  the  soul." 
49 


THE   TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

She  held  out  her  left  hand  toward  him.  On  a 
stretched  finger  a  ring  glistened,  mounted  with 
the  Sign  of  Venus  blazing  in  brilliants. 

"  I  had  this  made  specially,"  she  said ;  "  not 
that  I  had  any  particular  desire  to  test  it — no 
curiosity.  It  never  occurred  to  me  that  here  in 
New  York  one  could — could " 

"What?"  asked  Hetherford  dryly. 

"  — could  leave  one's  own  body  at  will." 

"  I  don't  believe  it  could  be  accomplished  in 
New  York,"  he  said  with  great  gravity.  "  And 
that's  a  pretty  safe  conclusion  to  come  to,  is  it 
not?" 

She  dropped  her  eyes,  silent  for  a  moment,  rest 
ing  her  delicate  chin  on  the  palm  of  her  hand. 
Then  she  lifted  her  eyes  to  him  calmly,  and  the 
direct  beauty  of  her  gaze  disturbed  him. 

"  No,  it  is  not  a  safe  conclusion  to  come  to. 
Listen  to  me.  Last  night  they  gave  a  dance  at 
the  Willow  Brook  Hunt.  It  was  nearly  two 
o'clock  this  morning  when  I  left  the  club  house 
and  started  home  across  the  lawn  with  my  mother 
and  the  maid " 

"  But  how  on  earth  could — "  he  began,  then 
begged  her  pardon  and  waited. 

She  continued  serenely :  "  The  night  was  warm 
and  lovely,  and  it  was  clear  starlight.  When  I 
50 


THE   SIGN   OF   VENUS 

entered  my  room  I  sent  the  maid  away  and  sat 
down  by  the  open  window.  The  scent  of  the  flow 
ers  and  the  beauty  of  the  night  made  me  restless ; 
I  went  downstairs,  unbolted  the  door,  and  slipped 
out  through  the  garden  to  the  pergola.  My 
hammock  hung  there,  and  I  lay  down  in  it,  look 
ing  out  at  the  stars." 

She  drew  the  ring  from  her  finger,  holding  it 
out  for  him  to  see. 

"  The  starlight  caught  the  gems  on  the  Sign 
of  Venus,"  she  said  under  her  breath ;  "  that  was 
the  beginning.  And  then — I  don't  know  why — 
as  I  lay  there  idly  turning  the  ring  on  my  finger, 
I  found  myself  saying,  '  I  must  go  to  New  York : 
I  must  leave  my  body  here  asleep  in  the  ham 
mock  and  go  to  my  own  room  in  Fifty-eighth 
Street.'  " 

A  curious  little  chill  passed  over  Hetherford. 

"  I  said  it  again  and  again — I  don't  know  why. 
I  remember  the  ring  glittered ;  I  remember  it  grew 
brighter  and  brighter.  And  then — and  then!  I 
found  myself  upstairs  in  the  dark,  groping  over 
the  dresser  for  the  matches." 

Again  that  faint  chill  touched  Hetherford. 

"  I  was  stupefied  for  a  moment,"  she  said  tremu 
lously  ;  "  then  I  suspected  what  I  had  done,  and  it 
frightened  me.  And  when  I  lighted  the  candle, 
51 


THE   TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

and  saw  it  was  truly  my  own  room — and  when  I 
caught  sight  of  my  own  face  in  the  mirror — ter 
ror  seized  me;  it  was  like  a  glimpse  of  something 
taken  unawares.  For,  do  you  know  that  although 
in  the  glass  I  saw  my  own  face,  the  face  was  not 
looking  back  at  me."  She  dropped  her  head, 
crushing  the  ring  in  both  hands.  "  The  reflected 
face  was  far  lovelier  than  mine ;  and  it  was  mine, 
I  think,  yet  it  was  not  looking  at  me,  and  it  moved 
when  I  did  not  move.  I  wonder — I  wonder " 

The  tension  was  too  much.  "  If  that  be  so," 
he  said,  steadying  his  voice — "  if  you  saw  a  face 
in  your  mirror,  the  face  was  your  own."  He  made 
an  impatient  gesture,  rising  to  his  feet  at  the 
same  moment.  "  All  that  you  have  told  me  can 
be  explained,"  he  said. 

"  How  can  it  ?  At  this  very  moment  I  am 
asleep  in  my  hammock." 

"  We  will  deal  with  that  later,"  he  said,  smil 
ing  down  at  her.  "  Where  is  there  a  looking- 
glass?" 

"  There  is  one  in  the  hallway."  She  rose,  slip 
ping  the  ring  on  her  finger,  and  led  the  way  to 
where  an  oval  gilt  mirror  hung  partly  covered 
with  dust  cloths. 

He  cast  aside  the  coverings.     "  Now  look  into 
the  glass,"  he  said  gayly. 
52 


THE   SIGN   OF   VENUS 

She  raised  her  head  and  faced  the  mirror  for 
an  instant. 

"  Come  here,"  she  whispered ;  and  he  stepped 
behind  her,  looking  over  her  shoulder. 

In  the  glass,  as  though  reflected,  he  saw  her 
face,  but  the  face  was  in  profile ! 

A  shiver  passed  over  him  from  head  to  foot. 

"  Did  I  not  tell  you?  "  she  whispered.  "  Look ! 
See,  the  other  face  is  moving,  while  I  am  still !  " 

"  There's  something  wrong  about  the  glass,  of 
course,"  he  muttered ;  "  it's  defective." 

"  But  who  is  that  in  the  glass?  " 

"  It  is  you — your  profile.  I  don't  exactly  un 
derstand.  Good  Lord!  It's  turning  away  from 
us !  " 

She  shrank  against  the  wall,  wide-eyed,  breath 
ing  rapidly. 

"  There  is  no  use  in  our  being  frightened,"  he 
said,  scarcely  knowing  what  he  uttered.  "  This 
is  Fifty-eighth  Street,  New  York,  1903."  He 
shook  his  shoulders,  squaring  them,  and  forced  a 
smile.  "  Don't  be  frightened ;  there's  an  explana 
tion  for  all  this.  You  are  not  asleep  in  West- 
chester;  you  are  here  in  your  own  house.  You 
mustn't  tremble  so.  Give  me  your  hand  a  mo 
ment." 

She  laid  her  hand  in  his  obediently ;  it  shook 
53 


THE   TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

like  a  leaf.     He  held  it  firmly,  touching  the  flut 
tering  pulse. 

"  You  are  certainly  no  spirit,"  he  said,  smiling ; 
"  your  hand  is  warm  and  yielding.  Ghosts  don't 
have  hands  like  that,  you  know." 

Her  fingers  lay  in  his,  quite  passive  now,  but 
the  pulse  quickened. 

"  The  explanation  of  it  all  is  this,"  he  said : 
"  You  have  had  a  temporary  suspension  of  con 
sciousness,  during  which  time  you,  without  being 
aware  of  what  you  were  doing,  came  to  town  from 
Willow  Brook.  You  believe  you  went  to  the  dance 
at  the  Hunt  Club,  but  probably  you  did  not.  In 
stead,  during  a  lapse  of  consciousness,  you  went 
to  the  station,  took  a  train  to  town,  came  straight 
to  your  own  house — "  He  hesitated. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  I  have  a  key  to  the  door. 
Here  it  is."  She  drew  it  from  the  bosom  of  her 
gown ;  he  took  it  triumphantly. 

"  You  simply  awoke  to  consciousness  while  you 
were  groping  for  the  matches.  That  is  all  there 
is  to  it ;  and  you  need  not  be  frightened  at  all !  " 
he  announced. 

"  No,  not  frightened,"  she  said,  shaking  her 
head ;  "  only — only  I  wonder  how  I  can  get  back. 
I've  tried  to  fix  my  mind  on  my  ring — on  the  Sign 

of  Venus — I  cannot  seem  to " 

54 


THE   SIGN   OF   VENUS 

"  But  that's  nonsense ! "  he  protested  cheer 
fully.  "  That  ring  has  nothing  to  do  with  the 
matter." 

"  But  it  brought  me  here !  Truly  I  am  asleep 
in  my  hammock.  Won't  you  believe  it  ?  " 

"  No ;  and  you  mustn't,  either,"  he  said  impa 
tiently.  "  Why,  just  now  I  explained  to  you " 

"  I  know,"  she  said,  looking  down  at  the  ring 
on  her  hand ;  "  but  you  are  wrong — truly  you 
are." 

"  I  am  not  wrong,"  he  said,  laughing.  "  It 
was  only  a  dream — the  dance,  the  return,  the 
hammock — all  these  were  parts  of  a  dream  so  in 
tensely  real  that  you  cannot  shake  it  off  at  once." 

"  Then — then  who  was  that  we  saw  in  the 
mirror?  " 

"  Let  us  try  it  again,"  he  said  confidently.  She 
suffered  him  to  lead  her  again  to  the  mirror ;  again 
they  peered  into  its  glimmering  depths,  heads 
close  together. 

A  second's  breathless  silence,  then  she  caught 
his  hand  in  both  of  hers  with  a  low  cry;  for  the 
strange  profile  was  slowly  turning  toward  them  a 
face  of  amazing  beauty — her  own  face  transfig 
ured,  radiantly  glorified. 

"  My  soul !  "  she  gasped,  and  would  have  fallen 
at  his  feet  had  he  not  held  her  and  supported  her 
5  55 


THE   TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

to  the  stairs,  where  she  sank  down,  hiding  her  face 
in  her  arms. 

As  for  him,  he  was  terribly  shaken;  he  strove 
to  speak,  to  reason  with  her,  with  himself,  but  a 
stupor  chained  body  and  mind,  and  he  only  leaned 
there  on  the  newel  post,  vaguely  aware  of  his  own 
helplessness. 

Far  away  in  the  night  the  bells  of  a  church 
began  striking  the  hour — one,  two,  three,  four. 
Presently  the  distant  rattle  of  a  wagon  sounded. 
The  city  stirred  in  its  slumbers. 

He  found  himself  bending  beside  her,  her  pas 
sive  hands  in  his  once  more,  and  he  was  saying: 
"  As  a  matter  of  fact,  all  this  is  quite  capable  of 
an  explanation.  Don't  be  distressed — please  don't 
be  frightened  or  sad.  We've  both  had  some  sort 
of  hallucination,  that's  all — really  that  is  all." 

"  I  am  not  frightened  now,"  she  said  dreamily. 
"  I  am  quite  sure  that — that  I  am  not  dead. 
I  am  only  asleep  in  my  hammock.  When  I 
awake " 

Again,  in  spite  of  himself,  he  shivered. 

"Will  you  do  one  more  thing  for  me?"  she 
asked. 

"  Yes— a  million." 

"  Only  one.     It  is  unreasonable,  it  is  perhaps 

silly — and  I  have  no  right  to  ask " 

56 


THE  SIGN  OF   VENUS 

"  Ask  it,"  he  begged. 

"  Then— then,  will  you  go  to  Willow  Brook? 
Now?" 

"  Now?  "  he  repeated  blankly. 

"Yes."  She  looked  down  at  him  with  the 
shadow  of  a  smile  touching  lips  and  eyes.  "  I  am 
asleep  in  the  hammock ;  I  sleep  very,  very  soundly 
— and  very,  very  late  into  the  morning.  They 
may  not  find  me  there  for  a  long  while.  So  would 
you  mind  going  to  Willow  Brook  to  awaken  me?  " 

"  I — I — but  you  do  not  expect  me  to  leave 
you  here  and  find  you  in  Westchester ! "  he  stam 
mered. 

"  You  need  not  go,"  she  said  quietly.  "  If  you 
will  telephone  to  the  house  and  ask  somebody  to 
go  out  to  the  pergola " 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  I  will  go ;  I  will  go  anywhere 
on  earth  for  you." 

He  stood  up,  his  senses  in  a  whirl.  She  rose, 
too,  leaning  lightly  on  the  balustrade. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said  sweetly.  "  When  you 
awake  me,  give  me  this."  She  held  out  the  Signum 
Veneris;  and  he  took  it,  and  bending  his  head 
slowly,  raised  it  to  his  lips. 

It  was  almost  morning  when  he  entered  his  own 
house.     In  a  dull  trance  he  dressed,  turned  again 
57 


THE   TREE   OF  HEAVEN 

to  the  stairs,  and  crept  out  into  the  shadowy 
street. 

People  began  to  pass  him;  an  early  electric 
tram  whizzed  up  Forty-second  Street  as  he  en 
tered  the  railway  station.  Presently  he  found 
himself  in  a  car,  clutching  his  ticket  in  one  hand, 
her  ring  in  the  other. 

"  It  is  I  who  am  mad,  not  she,"  he  muttered 
as  the  train  glided  from  the  station,  through  the 
long  yard,  dim  in  morning  mist,  where  green  and 
crimson  lanterns  still  sparkled  faintly. 

Again  he  pressed  the  Signum  Venerls  to  his 
lips.  "  It  is  I  who  am  mad — love  mad !  "  he  whis 
pered  as  the  far  treble  warning  of  the  whistle 
aroused  him  and  sent  him  stumbling  out  into  the 
soft  fresh  morning  air. 

The  rising  sun  smote  him  full  in  the  eyes  as 
he  came  in  sight  of  the  club  house  among  the  still 
green  trees,  and  the  dew  on  the  lawn  flashed  like 
the  gems  of  the  Signum  Venerls  on  the  ring  he 
held  so  tightly. 

Across  the  club  house  lawn  stood  another  house, 
circled  with  gardens  in  full  bloom;  and  to  the 
left,  among  young  trees,  the  white  columns  of  a 
pergola  glistened,  tinted  with  rose  from  the  early 
sun. 

There  was  not  a  soul  astir  as  he  crossed  the 
58 


THE   SIGN   OF   VENUS 

lawn  and  entered  the  garden,  brushing  the  dew 
from  overweighted  blossoms  as  he  passed. 

Suddenly,  at  a  turn  in  the  path,  he  came  upon 
the  pergola,  and  saw  a  brilliant  hammock  hang 
ing  in  the  shadow. 

Over  the  hammock's  fringe  something  light  and 
fluffy  fell  in  folds  like  the  billowy  frills  of  a  ball 
gown.  He  stumbled  forward,  dazed,  incredulous, 
and  stood  trembling  for  an  instant. 

Then,  speechless,  he  sank  down  beside  her,  and 
dropped  the  ring  into  the  palm  of  her  half -closed 
and  unconscious  hand. 

A  ray  of  sunlight  fell  across  her  hair;  slowly 
her  blue  eyes  unclosed,  smiling  divinely. 

And  in  her  partly  open  palm  the  Sign  of  Venus 
glimmered  like  dew  silvering  a  budding  rose. 


59 


CHAPTER    III 

THE    CASE    OF    ME.    HELMEB 

HE  had  really  been  too  ill  to  go ;  the  penetrat 
ing  dampness  of  the  studio,  the  nervous  strain, 
the  tireless  application,  all  had  told  on  him  heav 
ily.  But  the  feverish  discomfort  in  his  head  and 
lungs  gave  him  no  rest;  it  was  impossible  to  lie 
there  in  bed  and  do  nothing;  besides,  he  did  not 
care  to  disappoint  his  hostess.  So  he  managed 
to  crawl  into  his  clothes,  summon  a  cab,  and  de 
part.  The  raw  night  air  cooled  his  head  and 
throat ;  he  opened  the  cab  window  and  let  the  snow 
blow  in  on  him. 

When  he  arrived  he  did  not  feel  much  better, 
although  Catharine  was  glad  to  see  him.  Some 
body's  wife  was  allotted  to  him  to  take  in  to  din 
ner,  and  he  executed  the  commission  with  that 
distinction  of  manner  peculiar  to  men  of  his 
temperament. 

When  the  women  had  withdrawn  and  the  men 
had  lighted  cigars  and  cigarettes,  and  the  con- 
60 


THE   CASE   OF   MR.   HELMER 

versation  wavered  between  municipal  reform  and 
conies  drolatiques,  and  the  Boznovian  attache  had 
begun  an  interminable  story,  and  Count  Fantozzi 
was  emphasizing  his  opinion  of  women  by  joining 
the  tips  of  his  overmanicured  thumb  and  fore 
finger  and  wafting  spectral  kisses  at  an  annoyed 
Englishman  opposite,  Helmer  laid  down  his  un- 
lighted  cigar  and,  leaning  over,  touched  his  host 
on  the  sleeve. 

"  Hello!  what's  up,  Philip?  "  said  his  host  cor 
dially  ;  and  Helmer,  dropping  his  voice  a  tone 
below  the  sustained  pitch  of  conversation,  asked 
him  the  question  that  had  been  burning  his  fever 
ish  lips  since  dinner  began. 

To  which  his  host  replied,  "  What  girl  do  you 
mean  ?  "  and  bent  nearer  to  listen. 

"  I  mean  the  girl  in  the  fluffy  black  gown,  with 
shoulders  and  arms  of  ivory,  and  the  eyes  of 
Aphrodite." 

His  host  smiled.  "  Where  did  she  sit,  this  hu 
man  wonder  ?  " 

"  Beside  Colonel  Farrar." 

"  Farrar  ?  Let's  see  "  —  he  knit  his  brows 
thoughtfully,  then  shook  his  head.  "  I  can't  rec 
ollect;  we're  going  in  now  and  you  can  find  her 
and  I'll " 

His  words  were  lost  in  the  laughter  and  hum 
61 


THE   TREE   OF  HEAVEN 

around  them;  he  nodded  an  abstracted  assurance 
at  Helmer;  others  claimed  his  attention,  and  by 
the  time  he  rose  to  signal  departure  he  had  for 
gotten  the  girl  in  black. 

As  the  men  drifted  toward  the  drawing-rooms, 
Helmer  moved  with  the  throng.  There  were  a 
number  of  people  there  whom  he  knew  and  spoke 
to,  although  through  the  increasing  feverishness 
he  could  scarce  hear  himself  speak.  He  was  too 
ill  to  stay;  he  would  find  his  hostess  and  ask  the 
name  of  that  girl  in  black,  and  go. 

The  white  drawing-rooms  were  hot  and  over- 
thronged.  Attempting  to  find  his  hostess,  he 
encountered  Colonel  Farrar,  and  together  they 
threaded  their  way  aimlessly  forward. 

"  Who  is  the  girl  in  black,  Colonel?  "  he  asked; 
" 1  mean  the  one  that  you  took  in  to  dinner." 

"  A  girl  in  black?    I  don't  think  I  saw  her." 

"She  sat  beside  you!" 

"  Beside  me?  "  The  Colonel  halted,  and  his  in 
quiring  gaze  rested  for  a  moment  on  the  younger 
man,  then  swept  the  crowded  rooms. 

**  Do  you  see  her  now  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  No,"  said  Helmer,  after  a  moment. 

They  stood  silent  for  a  little  while,  then  parted 
to  allow  the  Chinese  minister  thoroughfare — a 
suave  gentleman,  all  antique  silks,  and  a  smile 
62 


THE   CASE   OF   MR.   HELMER 

"  thousands  of  years  old."  The  minister  passed, 
leaning  on  the  arm  of  the  general  commanding 
at  Governor's  Island,  who  signaled  Colonel  Far- 
rar  to  join  them;  and  Helmer  drifted  again, 
until  a  voice  repeated  his  name  insistently,  and 
his  hostess  leaned  forward  from  the  brilliant 
group  surrounding  her,  saying :  "  What  in  the 
world  is  the  matter,  Philip?  You  look  wretch 
edly  ill." 

"  It's  a  trifle  close  here — nothing's  the  matter." 

He  stepped  nearer,  dropping  his  voice :  "  Cath 
arine,  who  was  that  girl  in  black?  " 

"What  girl?" 

"  She  sat  beside  Colonel  Farrar  at  dinner — or 
I  thought  she  did " 

"Do  you  mean  Mrs.  Van  Siclen?  She  is  in 
white,  silly ! " 

"  No— the  girl  in  black." 

His  hostess  bent  her  pretty  head  in  perplexed 
silence,  frowning  a  trifle  with  the  effort  to  re 
member. 

"  There  were  so  many,"  she  murmured ;  "  let 
me  see — it  is  certainly  strange  that  I  cannot  recol 
lect.  Wait  a  moment!  Are  you  sure  she  wore 
black?  Are  you  sure  she  sat  next  to  Colonel 
Farrar?" 

"  A  moment  ago  I  was  certain — "  he  said,  hesi- 
63 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

tating.  "  Never  mind,  Catharine ;  I'll  prowl  about 
until  I  find  her." 

His  hostess,  already  partly  occupied  with  the 
animated  stir  around  her,  nodded  brightly ;  Hel- 
mer  turned  his  fevered  eyes  and  then  his  steps 
toward  the  cool  darkness  of  the  conservatories. 
But  he  found  there  a  dozen  people  who  greeted 
him  by  name,  demanding  not  only  his  company 
but  his  immediate  and  undivided  attention. 

"  Mr.  Helmer  might  be  able  to  explain  to  us 
what  his  own  work  means,"  said  a  young  girl, 
laughing. 

They  had  evidently  been  discussing  his  sculp 
tured  group,  just  completed  for  the  new  fa9ade 
of  the  National  Museum.  Press  and  public  had 
commented  very  freely  on  the  work  since  the  un 
veiling  a  week  since;  critics  quarreled  concern 
ing  the  significance  of  the  strange  composition  in 
marble.  The  group  was  at  the  same  time  repellent 
and  singularly  beautiful;  but  nobody  denied  its 
technical  perfection.  This  was  the  sculptured 
group :  A  vaquero,  evidently  dying,  lay  in  a  loose 
heap  among  some  desert  rocks.  Beside  him,  chin 
on  palm,  sat  an  exquisite  winged  figure,  calm  eyes 
fixed  on  the  dying  man.  It  was  plain  that  death 
was  near;  it  was  stamped  on  the  ravaged  visage, 
on  the  collapsed  frame.  And  yet,  in  the  dying 
64 


THE   CASE  Of  MR.   HELMER 

boy's  eyes  there  was  nothing  of  agony,  no  fear, 
only  an  intense  curiosity  as  the  lovely  winged  fig 
ure  gazed  straight  into  the  glazing  eyes. 

"  It  may  be,"  observed  an  attractive  girl,  "  that 
Mr.  Helmer  will  say  with  Mr.  Gilbert, 

"  '  It  is  really  very  clever, 

But  I  don't  know  what  it  means.'  " 

Helmer  laughed  and  started  to  move  away.  "  I 
think  I'd  better  admit  that  at  once,"  he  said,  pass 
ing  his  hand  over  his  aching  eyes ;  but  the  tumult 
of  protest  blocked  his  retreat,  and  he  was  forced 
to  find  a  chair  under  the  palms  and  tree  ferns. 
"  It  was  merely  an  idea  of  mine,"  he  protested, 
good-humoredly,  "  an  idea  that  has  haunted  me 
so  persistently  that,  to  save  myself  further  an 
noyance,  I  locked  it  up  in  marble." 

"  Demoniac  obsession  ? "  suggested  a  very 
young  man,  with  a  taste  for  morbid  literature. 

"  Not  at  all,"  protested  Helmer,  smiling ;  "  the 
idea  annoyed  me  until  I  gave  it  expression.  It 
doesn't  bother  me  any  more." 

"  You  said,"  observed  the  attractive  girl,  "  that 
you  were  going  to  tell  us  all  about  it." 

"About  the  idea?  Oh,  no,  I  didn't  promise 
that " 

"Please,  Mr.  Helmer!" 
65 


THE   TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

A  number  of  people  had  joined  the  circle;  he 
could  see  others  standing  here  and  there  among 
the  palms,  evidently  pausing  to  listen. 

"  There  is  no  logie  in  the  idea,"  he  said,  un 
easily — "  nothing  to  attract  your  attention.  I 
have  only  laid  a  ghost " 

He  stopped  short.  The  girl  in  black  stood 
there  among  the  others,  intently  watching  him. 
When  she  caught  his  eye,  she  nodded  with  the 
friendliest  little  smile ;  and  as  he  started  to  rise 
she  shook  her  head  and  stepped  back  with  a  ges 
ture  for  him  to  continue. 

They  looked  steadily  at  one  another  for  a 
moment. 

"  The  idea  that  has  always  attracted  me,"  he 
began  slowly,  "  is  purely  instinctive  and  emo 
tional,  not  logical.  It  is  this :  As  long  as  I  can 
remember  I  have  taken  it  for  granted  that  a  per 
son  who  is  doomed  to  die,  never  dies  utterly  alone. 
We  who  die  in  our  beds — or  expect  to — die  sur 
rounded  by  the  living.  So  fall  soldiers  on  the 
firing  line;  so  end  the  great  majority — never  ab 
solutely  alone.  Even  in  a  murder,  the  murderer 
at  least  must  be  present.  If  not,  something  else 
is  there. 

"  But  how  is  it  with  those  solitary  souls  isolated 
in  the  world — the  lone  herder  who  is  found  life- 
66 


THE   CASE   OF   ME.   HELMER 

less  in  some  vast,  waterless  desert,  the  pioneer 
whose  bones  are  stumbled  over  by  the  tardy  pickets 
of  civilization — and  even  those  nearer  us — here  in 
our  city — who  are  found  in  silent  houses,  in  de 
serted  streets,  in  the  solitude  of  salt  meadows,  in 
the  miserable  desolation  of  vacant  lands  beyond 
the  suburbs?" 

The  girl  in  black  stood  motionless,  watching 
him  intently. 

"  I  like  to  believe,"  he  went  on,  "  that  no  living 
creature  dies  absolutely  and  utterly  alone.  I  have 
thought  that,  perhaps  in  the  desert,  for  instance, 
when  a  man  is  doomed,  and  there  is  no  chance  that 
he  could  live  to  relate  the  miracle,  some  winged 
sentinel  from  the  uttermost  outpost  of  Eter 
nity,  putting  off  the  armor  of  invisibility,  drops 
through  space  to  watch  beside  him  so  that  he  may 
not  die  alone." 

There  was  absolute  quiet  in  the  circle  around 
him.  Looking  always  at  the  girl  in  black,  he  said : 

"  Perhaps  those  doomed  on  dark  mountains  or 
in  solitary  deserts,  or  the  last  survivor  at  sea, 
drifting  to  certain  destruction  after  the  wreck 
has  foundered,  finds  death  no  terror,  being  guided 
to  it  by  those  invisible  to  all  save  the  surely 
doomed.  That  is  really  all  that  suggested  the 
marble — quite  illogical,  you  see." 

67 


THE   TREE   OF  HEAVEN 

In  the  stillness,  somebody  drew  a  long,  deep 
breath ;  the  easy  reaction  followed ;  people  moved, 
spoke  together  in  low  voices ;  a  laugh  rippled  up 
out  of  the  darkness.  But  Helmer  had  gone,  mak 
ing  his  way  through  the  half  light  toward  a  fig 
ure  that  moved  beyond  through  the  deeper  shad 
ows  of  the  foliage — moved  slowly  and  more  slowly. 
Once  she  looked  back,  and  he  followed,  pushing 
forward  and  parting  the  heavy  fronds  of  fern  and 
palm  and  masses  of  moist  blossoms.  Suddenly  he 
came  upon  her,  standing  there  as  though  waiting 
for  him. 

"  There  is  not  a  soul  in  this  house  charitable 
enough  to  present  me,"  he  began. 

"  Then,"  she  answered  laughingly,  "  charity 
should  begin  at  home.  Take  pity  on  yourself — 
and  on  me.  I  have  waited  for  you." 

"  Did  you  really  care  to  know  me?  "  he  stam 
mered. 

"  Why  am  I  here  alone  with  you  ?  "  she  asked, 
bending  above  a  scented  mass  of  flowers.  "  Indis 
cretion  may  be  a  part  of  valor,  but  it  is  the  best 
part  of — something  else." 

That  blue  radiance  which  a  starless  sky  sheds 
lighted  her  white  shoulders;  transparent  shadow 
veiled  the  contour  of  neck  and  cheeks. 

"  At  dinner,"  he  said,  "  I  did  not  mean  to  stare 
68 


THE   CASE   OF   MR.   HELMER 

so — but  I  simply  could  not  keep  my  eyes  from 
yours " 

"  A  hint  that  mine  were  on  yours,  too  ?  " 

She  laughed  a  little  laugh  so  sweet  that  the 
sound  seemed  part  of  the  twilight  and  the  float 
ing  fragrance.  She  turned  gracefully,  holding 
out  her  hand. 

"  Let  us  be  friends,"  she  said,  "  after  all  these 
years." 

Her  hand  lay  in  his  for  an  instant;  then  she 
withdrew  it  and  dropped  it  caressingly  upon  a 
cluster  of  massed  flowers. 

"  Forced  bloom,"  she  said,  looking  down  at 
them,  where  her  fingers,  white  as  the  blossoms, 
lay  half  buried.  Then,  raising  her  head,  "  You 
do  not  know  me,  do  you  ?  " 

"  Know  you  ?  "  he  faltered ;  "  how  could  I  know 
you?  Do  you  think  for  a  moment  that  I  could 
have  forgotten  you  ?  " 

"  Ah,  you  have  not  forgotten  me ! "  she  said, 
still  with  her  wide  smiling  eyes  on  his ;  "  you  have 
not  forgotten.  There  is  a  trace  of  me  in  the 
winged  figure  you  cut  in  marble — not  the  fea 
tures,  not  the  massed  hair,  nor  the  rounded  neck 
and  limbs — but  in  the  eyes.  Who  living,  save 
yourself,  can  read  those  eyes  ?  " 

"  Are  you  laughing  at  me?  " 
69 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

"  Answer  me ;  who  alone  in  all  the  world  can 
read  the  message  in  those  sculptured  eyes?  " 

"  Can  you  ?  "  he  asked,  curiously  troubled. 

"  Yes ;  I,  and  the  dying  man  in  marble." 

"  What  do  you  read  there?  " 

"  Pardon  for  guilt.  You  have  foreshadowed 
it  unconsciously — the  resurrection  of  the  soul. 
That  is  what  you  have  left  in  marble  for  the 
mercilessly  just  to  ponder  on;  that  alone  is  the 
meaning  of  your  work." 

Through  the  throbbing  silence  he  stood  think 
ing,  searching  his  clouded  mind. 

"  The  eyes  of  the  dying  man  are  your  own," 
she  said.  "  Is  it  not  true?  " 

And  still  he  stood  there,  groping,  probing 
through  dim  and  forgotten  corridors  of  thought 
toward  a  faint  memory  scarcely  perceptible  in  the 
wavering  mirage  of  the  past. 

"  Let  us  talk  of  your  career,"  she  said,  leaning 
back  against  the  thick  foliage — "  your  success, 
and  all  that  it  means  to  you,"  she  added  gayly. 

He  stood  staring  at  the  darkness.  "  You  have 
set  the  phantoms  of  forgotten  things  stirring  and 
whispering  together  somewhere  within  me.  Now 
tell  me  more ;  tell  me  the  truth." 

"  You  are  slowly  reading  it  in  my  eyes,"  she 
said,  laughing  sweetly.     "  Read  and  remember." 
70 


THE   CASE   OF   ME.    HELMER 

The  fever  in  him  seared  his  sight  as  he  stood 
there,  his  confused  gaze  on  hers. 

"  Is  it  a  threat  of  hell  you  read  in  the  mar 
ble  ?"  he  asked. 

"  No,  nothing  of  destruction,  only  resurrection 
and  hope  of  Paradise.  Look  at  me  closely." 

"  Who  are  you?  "  he  whispered,  closing  his  eyes 
to  steady  his  swimming  senses.  "  When  have  we 
met?" 

"  You  were  very  young,"  she  said  under  her 
breath — "  and  I  was  younger — and  the  rains  had 
swollen  the  Canadian  river  so  that  it  boiled  amber 
at  the  fords ;  and  I  could  not  cross — alas  !  " 

A  moment  of  stunning  silence,  then  her  voice 
again :  "  I  said  nothing,  not  a  word  even  of  thanks 
when  you  offered  aid.  .  .  .  I — was  not  too  heavy 
in  your  arms,  and  the  ford  was  soon  passed — soon 
passed.  That  was  very  long  ago."  Watching 
him  from  shadowy  sweet  eyes,  she  said: 

"  For  a  day  you  knew  the  language  of  my 
mouth  and  my  arms  around  you,  there  in  the 
white  sun  glare  of  the  river.  For  every  kiss  taken 
and  retaken,  given  and  forgiven,  we  must  account 
— for  every  one,  even  to  the  last. 

"  But  you  have  set  a  monument  for  us  both, 
preaching  the  resurrection  of  the  soul.  Love  is 
such  a  little  thing — and  ours  endured  a  whole  day 
6  71 


THE   TREE   OF  HEAVEN 

long!  Do  you  remember?  Yet  He  who  created 
love,  designed  that  it  should  last  a  lifetime.  Only 
the  lost  outlive  it." 

She  leaned  nearer: 

"  Tell  me,  you  who  have  proclaimed  the  resur 
rection  of  dead  souls,  are  you  afraid  to  die?  " 

Her  low  voice  ceased ;  lights  broke  out  like  stars 
through  the  foliage  around  them;  the  great  glass 
doors  of  the  ballroom  were  opening;  the  illumi 
nated  fountain  flashed,  a  falling  shower  of  silver. 
Through  the  outrush  of  music  and  laughter  swell 
ing  around  them,  a  clear  far  voice  called  "  Fran- 
9oise ! " 

Again,  close  by,  the  voice  rang  faintly,  "  Fran- 
9oise !  Fran9oise !  " 

She  slowly  turned,  staring  into  the  brilliant 
glare  beyond. 

"  Who  called  ?  "  he  asked  hoarsely. 

"  My  mother,"  she  said,  listening  intently. 
"  Will  you  wait  for  me  ?  " 

His  ashen  face  glowed  again  like  a  dull  ember. 
She  bent  nearer,  and  caught  his  fingers  in  hers. 

"  By  the  memory  of  our  last  kiss,  wait  for  me !  " 
she  pleaded,  her  little  hand  tightening  on  his. 

"Where?"  he  said,  with  dry  lips.  "We  can 
not  talk  here! — we  cannot  say  here  the  things 
that  must  be  said." 

72 


THE   CASE   OF   MR.   HELMER 

"  In  your  studio,"  she  whispered.  "  Wait  for 
me." 

"  Do  you  know  the  way  ?  " 

"  I  tell  you  I  will  come ;  truly  I  will !  Only  a 
moment  with  my  mother — then  I  will  be  there !  " 

Their  hands  clung  together  an  instant,  then  she 
slipped  away  into  the  crowded  rooms;  and  after 
a  moment  Helmer  followed,  head  bent,  blinded  by 
the  glare. 

"  You  are  ill,  Philip,"  said  his  host,  as  he  took 
his  leave.  "  Your  face  is  as  ghastly  as  that  dying 
vaquero's — by  Heaven,  man,  you  look  like  him !  " 

"  Did  you  find  your  girl  in  black  ?  "  asked  his 
hostess  curiously. 

"  Yes,"  he  said;  "  good  night." 

The  air  was  bitter  as  he  stepped  out — bitter  as 
death.  Scores  of  carriage  lamps  twinkled  as  he 
descended  the  snowy  steps,  and  a  faint  gust  of 
music  swept  out  of  the  darkness,  silenced  as  the 
heavy  doors  closed  behind  him. 

He  turned  west,  shivering.  A  long  smear  of 
light  bounded  his  horizon  as  he  pressed  toward  it 
and  entered  the  sordid  avenue  beneath  the  iron 
arcade  which  was  even  now  trembling  under  the 
shock  of  an  oncoming  train.  It  passed  overhead 
with  a  roar ;  he  raised  his  hot  eyes  and  saw, 
through  the  tangled  girders  above,  the  illuminated 
73 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

disk  of  the  clock  tower — all  distorted — for  the 
fever  in  him  was  disturbing  everything — even  the 
cramped  and  twisted  street  into  which  he  turned, 
fighting  for  breath  like  a  man  stabbed  through 
and  through. 

"  What  folly ! "  he  said  aloud,  stopping  short 
in  the  darkness.  "  This  is  fever — all  this.  She 
could  not  know  where  to  come " 

Where  two  blind  alleys  cut  the  shabby  block, 
worming  their  way  inward  from  the  avenue  and 
from  Tenth  Street,  he  stopped  again,  his  hands 
working  at  his  coat. 

"  It  is  fever,  fever !  "  he  muttered.  "  She  was 
not  there." 

There  was  no  light  in  the  street  save  for  the 
red  fire  lamp  burning  on  the  corner,  and  a  glim 
mer  from  the  Old  Grapevine  Tavern  across  the 
way.  Yet  all  around  him  the  darkness  was  illu 
minated  with  pale  unsteady  flames,  lighting  him 
as  he  groped  through  the  shadows  of  the  street 
to  the  blind  alley.  Dark  old  silent  houses  peered 
across  the  paved  lane  at  their  aged  counterparts, 
waiting  for  him. 

And  at  last  he  found  a  door  that  yielded,  and 
he   stumbled  into   the  black  passageway,   always 
lighted  on  by  the  unsteady  pallid  flames  which 
seemed  to  burn  in  infinite  depths  of  night. 
74 


THE   CASE   OF   MR.   HELMER 

"  She  was  not  there — she  was  never  there,"  he 
gasped,  bolting  the  door  and  sinking  down  upon 
the  floor.  And,  as  his  mind  wandered,  he  raised 
his  eyes  and  saw  the  great  bare  room  growing 
whiter  and  whiter  under  the  uneasy  flames. 

"  It  will  burn  as  I  burn,"  he  said  aloud — for  the 
phantom  flames  had  crept  into  his  body.  Sud 
denly  he  laughed,  and  the  vast  studio  rang  again. 

"  Hark ! "  he  whispered,  listening  intently. 
"  Who  knocked?  " 

There  was  some  one  at  the  door;  he  managed 
to  raise  himself  and  drag  back  the  bolt. 

"  You ! "  he  breathed,  as  she  entered  hastily, 
her  hair  disordered  and  her  black  skirts  powdered 
with  snow. 

"Who  but  I?"  she  whispered,  breathless. 
"  Listen !  do  you  hear  my  mother  calling  me  ?  It 
is  too  late ;  but  she  was  with  me  to  the  end." 

Through  the  silence,  from  an  infinite  distance, 
came  a  desolate  cry  of  grief — "  Fran9oise !  " 

He  had  fallen  back  into  his  chair  again,  and 
the  little  busy  flames  enveloped  him  so  that  the 
room  began  to  whiten  again  into  a  restless  glare. 
Through  it  he  watched  her. 

The  hour  struck,  passed,  struck  and  passed 
again.  Other  hours  grew,  lengthening  into  night. 
She  sat  beside  him  with  never  a  word  or  sigh  or 
75 


THE   TREE   OF  HEAVEN 

whisper  of  breathing;  and  dream  after  dream 
swept  him,  like  burning  winds.  Then  sleep  im 
mersed  him  so  that  he  lay  senseless,  sightless  eyes 
still  fixed  on  her.  Hour  after  hour — and  the 
white  glare  died  out,  fading  to  a  glimmer.  In 
densest  darkness,  he  stirred,  awoke,  his  mind  quite 
clear,  and  spoke  her  name  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Yes,  I  am  here,"  she  answered  gently. 

"  Is  it  death?  "  he  asked,  closing  his  eyes. 

"  Yes.     Look  at  me,  Philip." 

His  eyes  unclosed;  into  his  altered  face  there 
crept  an  intense  curiosity.  For  he  beheld  a  glim 
mering  shape,  wide-winged  and  deep-eyed,  kneel 
ing  beside  him,  and  looking  him  through  and 
through. 


76 


CHAPTER    IV 

THE    TREE    OF    DEEAMS 

IT  was  a  slim,  well-groomed,  top-hatted,  frock- 
coated  Smith  who  entered  his  private  office  that 
morning;  it  was  a  very  different  species  of  Smith 
who  left  stealthily  by  a  back  corridor  an  hour 
later,  a  shabby-genteel  Smith  whose  cravatless  col 
lar  was  fastened  with  a  democratic  bone  collar  but 
ton — whose  clean  but  shapeless  trousers  bagged 
and  flapped  in  the  June  breeze — who  gazed  out  at 
Broadway  from  under  the  faded  brim  of  a  cheap 
felt  hat — who,  as  he  forced  his  pace  from  a  Fifth 
Avenue  saunter  into  a  Third  Avenue  hustle,  thrust 
both  thin,  clean  hands  into  his  trousers  pockets 
and  satisfied  himself  that  every  cent  which  he 
meant  to  spend  for  a  week  was  there  in  the  shape 
of  ten  one-dollar  bills. 

At  Wall  Street  he  adjusted  his  glasses  and 
peered  about  with  pleasant,  near-sighted  eyes  to 
discover  the  policeman  at  the  crossing  in  order 
to  avoid  him.  Once  beyond  the  financial  zone 

77 


THE   TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

downtown  he  had  no  fear  of  being  recognized  by 
anybody ;  his  features,  he  was  modestly  persuaded, 
resembled  the  typical  features  of  about  fifty  per 
cent  of  the  male  inhabitants  of  Manhattan,  al 
though  those  same  features  had  been  public  and 
newspaper  property  for  three  years  now — ever 
since  his  father,  J.  Abingdon  Smith,  2d,  had 
faded  heavenward,  leaving  the  enormous  fortune 
in  Manhattan  real  estate  to  his  only  son,  J.  Abing 
don  Smith,  3d. 

He  was  still  a  young  man,  thin  of  hair,  near 
sighted,  endowed  with  sufficient  intelligence  to  en 
able  him  to  turn  over  his  inherited  fortune,  legit 
imately  increased,  to  any  heir  he  might  have  if 
he  should  ever  marry.  Had  he  resembled  Smith 
the  first,  or  Smith  the  second,  he  would  have  done 
this  as  a  matter  of  family  routine — married  the 
sort  of  girl  that  generations  of  Smiths  found 
inoffensive  enough  to  marry;  produced  one  heir, 
and,  when  the  proper  time  arrived,  would  have  in 
his  turn  decorously  and  formally  faded  heaven 
ward — leaving  a  J.  Abingdon  Smith,  4th,  to 
follow  his  example. 

But  Smith  had  inherited  from  his  mother  a 
thin  but  deep  streak  of  romantic  sentiment.  This 
vein  ran  clean  through  him,  and  might  have  mani 
fested  itself  in  almost  any  form  along  the  line  of 
78 


THE   TREE   OF   DREAMS 

least  resistance,  had  it  not  been  half  imbedded  in 
a  stratum  of  negative  platitudes  inherited  from 
his  emotionless  father. 

As  he  stood  in  his  shabby  clothes,  near  the  new 
Hall  of  Records,  waiting  for  a  Fourth  Avenue 
car,  a  slender,  blue-eyed  girl,  passing,  looked  up 
at  him  with  such  a  frank,  sweet  gaze  that  he 
missed  his  next  breath  and  then  made  up  for  it 
by  breathing  twice  too  quickly.  He  had  an  idea 
that  he  had  seen  her  before,  but  finally  decided  he 
hadn't. 

To  be  loved  for  himself  alone  was  one  of  his 
impractical  ideas,  born  of  the  maternal  sentimental 
streak ;  but,  for  years,  the  famous  Smith  fortune, 
its  enormous  holdings  in  realty,  the  doings  of 
the  Smiths,  their  shrewd  sales,  purchases,  leases, 
improvements,  their  movements,  their  personal 
affairs,  their  photographed  features  had  been 
common  property  and  an  unfailing  source  of  news 
for  the  press;  and  he  knew  perfectly  well  that, 
however  honest  and  theoretically  disinterested  a 
girl  might  be,  the  courtship  of  a  J.  Abingdon 
Smith,  of  whatever  vintage,  could  not  help  repre 
senting  a  bunch  of  figures  that  no  human  being 
in  shape  of  a  female  biped  could  avoid  seeing,  no 
matter  how  tightly  she  closed  her  innocent  eyes. 
Thinking  of  these  things,  he  calmly  encountered 
79 


THE   TREE   OF  HEAVEN 

the  curious  eyes  of  the  conductor  as  he  boarded 
a  crowded  car. 

The  blue-eyed  girl  also  got  in,  but  Smith,  on 
the  back  platform,  did  not  see  her. 

"  That  fellow,"  said  the  conductor  to  the  grip- 
man,  as  he  swung  off  the  front  platform  after  col 
lecting  a  fare,  "  is  a  ringer  for  J.  Abingdon  Smith, 
the  millionaire." 

And  the  conductor  was  not  the  only  one ;  several 
passengers  were  amused  by  the  resemblance  this 
near-sighted,  shabby  young  man  bore  to  the  fea 
tures  that  every  newspaper  had  made  familiar  to 
the  submerged  tenth,  /the  frantically  swimming 
twentieth,  and  the  marooned  remainder  of  the 
great  unwashed. 

Half  an  hour  later  Smith  said  to  the  conductor : 
"  Would  you  be  kind  enough  to  stop  here  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  Mr.  Smith,"  said  the  conductor, 
meaning  a  joke. 

Smith  ambled  along,  intent  upon  his  own  busi 
ness.  The  blue-eyed  girl  had  preceded  him  in  the 
same  direction;  but  as  he  entered  the  main  door 
way  of  the  Smith  model  tenement  houses,  which 
formed  almost  a  complete  quadrangle  around  the 
block,  he  was  not  aware  that  she  was  on  the  iron 
and  concrete  stairway,  three  stories  above  him,  and 
was  still  climbing  heavenward. 
80 


THE   TREE   OF   DREAMS 

When  he  reached  his  room,  which  he  had  paid 
for  in  advance,  he  found  that  his  trunk  and  furni 
ture  had  arrived.  The  air  in  the  room  was  close; 
he  opened  the  window. 

For  a  while  he  bustled  busily  about,  arranging 
the  meager  furniture.  The  narrow  iron  bed  he 
dragged  into  a  corner  by  the  window,  pushed  the 
washstand  against  the  opposite  wall  and  hung  a 
ninety-eight-cent  mirror  over  it.  He  laid  a  strip 
of  carpet  in  the  center  of  the  floor,  placed  a  pine 
table  upon  it,  and  then,  picking  up  the  only  chair, 
distractedly  began  traveling  about  with  it,  trying 
the  effect,  first  in  one  corner,  then  in  another. 

At  this  juncture  Kerns,  his  agent,  general  es 
tate  manager,  and  boyhood  friend,  slipped  into  the 
room  on  tiptoe,  carefully  closing  the  door  behind 
him. 

"  I  don't  know  where  to  put  it,"  Smith  said, 
pausing  to  settle  his  refractory  glasses  and  glance 
suspiciously  at  Kerns  out  of  pleasant,  near-sighted 
eyes.  "  When  they  have  only  one  chair  where  do 
they  usually  put  it,  Tommy  ?  " 

"  When  they  get  down  to  one  chair  they  usually 
put  it  in  the  stove,"  said  Kerns. 

"What?  They  do?  That's  another  point, 
Kerns ;  we've  got  to  give  them  free  furniture  some 
how  ;  I  mean  for  the  same  rent.  You  figure  it  up ; 
81 


THE   TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

cut  out  something  or  other — "  He  gazed  vaguely 
about  the  bare  walls  as  though  contemplating 
their  possible  economic  elimination.  Then,  he 
looked  at  the  floor ;  but  his  tenants,  being  wingless, 
required  something  to  stand  on.  "  Could  we  give 
them  bed,  tables,  and  chair,  and  cut  out  that  gas 
range  ?  "  he  suggested. 

"  Not  unless  you  throw  in  a  stove,"  said  Kerns, 
trying  to  look  serious.  "  And  if  you  do  that, 
they'll  keep  their  coal  in  the  bath  tubs,  as  before." 

Smith  began  to  remove  the  contents  of  a  shabby 
little  trunk.  First,  there  were  shaving  utensils, 
which  he  placed  in  a  row  on  the  unpainted  wash- 
stand,  then  a  tin  pitcher  and  wash  basin,  a  cake  of 
soap,  and  last,  some  cheap  towels. 

"  I've  a  notion  that  I've  too  much  crockery,"  he 
said,  gazing  about.  "  Do  you  think  I've  overdone 
it?  I  don't  need  two  plates — do  I?  And  all  that 
tinware — do  I  ?  What  the  deuce  are  you  grinning 
at  ? "  he  added,  diving  into  his  battered  trunk 
again  and  emerging  with  both  arms  full  of  tin 
ware.  These  utensils  he  hung  upon  nails  above 
the  sink  in  the  corner,  arranging  them  with 
care. 

"  That's  the  place  for  pots  and  pans,  isn't  it, 
Kerns  ?  "  he  said,  backing  off  to  observe  the  effect. 
Then,  by  chance,  he  caught  sight  of  himself  in  the 
82 


THE   TREE   OF  DREAMS 

ninety-eight-cent  mirror,  and  a  slight  flush  of  em 
barrassment  rose  to  his  cheeks. 

"  Do  I  look  like  a  respectable  man  out  of  work?  " 
he  asked.  "  Tell  me  the  truth." 

"  Exactly,"  replied  Kerns ;  "  you  look  like  what 
you  are — a  well-meaning  gentleman,  permanently 
unemployed — and  likely  to  remain  so.  In  other 
words,  dear  friend,  you  resemble  a  Lulu  bird  of 
leisure." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  I  look  like  myself  ?  "  de 
manded  Smith  innocently.  "  Do  I  seem  to  be  made 
up  for  a  part?  There  was  an  impudent  conductor 
who  called  me  Smith.  Don't  you  suppose  he  did 
it  in  joke?  And — a — a  girl — who  looked  at 
me_er " 

"  Because  you're  a  winner.  Because  a  Smith 
ill  dressed  is  half  confessed;  because  a  Smith  in 
any  other  clothes  would  look  as  neat;  because  a 
Sm " 

Smith's  brows  contracted,  but  lifelong  endur 
ance  of  Kerns's  raillery  had  habituated  him  to  dis 
regard  such  gibes. 

"  John  Abingdon,"  continued  Kerns,  "  I've  in 
spected  these  barracks  of  yours  to-day  because  you 
insisted ;  I've  met  you  here  because  you  told  me 
me  to ;  but  it's  all  portentous  and  top-heavy  non 
sense  on  your  part,  and  it's  my  business  to  say 
83 


THE   TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

so  whether  it  makes  you  fidgety  and  sulky  or 
not." 

"  We  won't  start  that  line  of  discussion  again," 
said  Smith,  "  because,  Kerns,  outside  of  your  own 
harmless  routine,  you're  so  densely  ignorant  that 
I  am  continually  ashamed  of  you.  What  do  you 
know  about  humanity  ?  " 

"  I  thought  you  weren't  going  to  start  that 
thing  going,"  yawned  Kerns. 

"  You  started  it  yourself,"  said  Smith. 

"  All  right,  then ;  I'll  go  on.  Haven't  I  told 
you  a  thousand  times  that,  if  you  are  anxious  to 
know  how  your  tenants  live,  I  can  tell  you,  or  any 
of  your  collectors  or  your  brokers,  or  even  your 
janitors.  Every  time  you  do  a  thing  without  my 
advice  you  mess  matters.  You  insisted  on  giving 
them  bath  tubs,  and  they  used  them  for  coal,  and 
I  had  to  straighten  that  out  by  taking  away  their 
cook  stoves  and  substituting  gas  ranges  and  ovens. 
You  insisted  on  inserting  rotary  ventilators  in 
every  window,  and  the  noise  of  the  wheels  kept  your 
tenants  awake  at  night ;  and,  when  they  don't  sleep, 
they  fight.  Besides,  they  all  caught  cold,  and  there 
are  a  dozen  enraged  Hibernians  suing  you  now. 
If  you  could  only  know  what  I  know  and  see  what 
I've  seen " 

"  I've  told  you  a  hundred  times,  Tom,  that  I 
84 


THE    TREE    OF   DREAMS 

don't  intend  to  slop  over  and  bestow  charity ;  but 
I  do  want  to  know  what  are  my  just  obligations  to 
my  tenants,  and  how  I  can  place  them  in  a  better 
position." 

He  was  somewhat  heated  when  he  finished, 
and  stood  touching  his  forehead  with  his  handker 
chief. 

"  Toot !  Toot !  "  said  Kerns  plaintively,  back 
ing  toward  the  door.  "  The  next  stop  is  Chau- 
tauqua.  Go  it  your  own  way,  Smithy ;  I'm  about 
due  at  the  club  for  luncheon." 

The  door  slammed  as  the  wash  basin  struck  it ; 
Smith  glared  at  the  dent  in  the  woodwork,  pre 
pared  to  hurl  the  coffeepot.  But  Kerns  did  not 
come  back;  and,  after  a  while,  he  replaced  the 
coffeepot,  searched  his  trunk  for  a  collar,  but 
toned  it  to  his  flannel  shirt,  and,  picking  up  his 
hat,  went  out  into  the  hallway. 

And  there  he  encountered  the  slender  girl  with 
the  blue  eyes. 

There  was  something  very  innocent  in  her  con 
fident,  fearless  gaze;  as  he  passed  her,  lifting  his 
hat,  he  bade  her  good  day  in  his  pleasant  voice. 
Her  quaintly  impersonal  nod  in  acknowledgment 
pleased  him. 

"  Just  what  I  thought,"  he  reflected,  as  he  de 
scended  the  stairs :  "  the  poor  are  always  nice  to 
85 


THE   TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

each  other ;  they're  frank  and  human,  unspoiled 
by  our  asinine  code  of  conventions.  If  I'd  worn 
a  top  hat  that  girl  would  have  looked  the  other 
way ;  if  I'd  noticed  her  she'd  have  been  defiant  or 
sullen  or  saucy." 

And  while  he  trudged  about,  purchasing  grocer 
ies  for  his  luncheon,  he  looked  out  upon  the  world 
through  optimistic  glasses,  smiling,  warm-hearted, 
pleased  with  himself  and  everybody  he  encountered. 

He  was  hungry — it  being  long  past  his  regular 
luncheon  time — an  hour  from  which  he  had  not 
varied  half  a  dozen  times  in  a  dozen  years. 

As  he  ascended  the  iron  stairs  of  his  lodging 
house  once  more  he  counted  over  the  little  packages 
of  groceries  piled  up  in  his  arms — butter,  salt, 
sugar,  a  bottle  of  milk,  tea,  coffee,  rolls,  and 
eggs.  "  Probably  too  much,"  he  reflected ;  "  I'll 
have  to  go  about  among  these  people  and  find 
out  what  they  eat —  Good  Heavens!  that  is 
awful!" 

In  his  own  hallway  a  khamsin  gust  of  cabbage 
smote  him  with  its  answer  to  his  question,  and  he 
shuddered.  He  forced  his  door  in  with  the  point 
of  his  knee,  made  his  way  to  the  table,  and  dropped 
the  packages.  Then,  producing  a  match  box,  he 
advanced  blithely  toward  the  gas  range. 

"  The  first  thing  to  do  is  to  start  that  exceed- 
86 


THE   TREE   OF   DREAMS 

ingly  convenient  machine  and  get  action  at  once," 
he  continued,  turning  on  the  gas  and  lighting  a 
match.  "  Cooking  coffee  and  eggs  is  nothing  to 
any  man  who  has  ever  camped  out  in  the 
woods " 

Flash! — bang!  went  the  gas  range;  and  Smith 
executed  what  his  office  boys  might  have  character 
ized  as  a  "  quick  get-away." 

"  W-what  a  perfectly  ghastly  species  of  range," 
he  stammered,  "  g-going  off  in  a  man's  face  like  a 
t-t-ten-inch  shell !  "  He  sat  down  in  the  only  chair, 
breathed  hard,  and  stared  at  the  range ;  then,  sud 
denly  afraid  that  gas  might  be  pouring  into  the 
room,  he  crept  toward  it,  lighted  another  match, 
and  extended  his  arm  like  the  hero  touching  off  a 
magazine  in  the  ship's  hold. 

Bang !  repeated  the  gas  range  emphatically. 

"  W-well,  this  is  a  pleasant  situation ! "  he 
breathed,  wringing  his  slightly  scorched  fingers. 
"  Am  I  expected  to  fry  my  eggs  over  a  volcano?  " 

Hesitating,  he  wiped  his  glasses,  affixed  them, 
and  gazed  earnestly  at  the  range.  Very  gingerly 
he  tiptoed  toward  it  and,  with  a  sudden  dash, 
turned  off  the  gas. 

For  a  while  he  alternately  stood  in  front  of  it 
and  walked  all  around  it.  He  looked  at  his  coffee 
and  eggs — he  could  not  eat  them  raw.  It  was  now 
7  87 


THE   TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

long  after  his  usual  luncheon  hour,  and  he  began 
to  feel  famished. 

"  The  trouble  is  that  I  don't  know  how  to  get 
the  proper  spark,"  he  reflected;  but,  driven  by 
necessity,  he  turned  on  the  gas  once  more,  and, 
lighting  a  match,  applied  it.  There  was  no  ex 
plosion  this  time ;  a  bluish  flame  played  all  over  the 
machine  for  a  few  seconds,  sank,  rose,  subsided, 
and  went  out.  In  vain  he  lighted  match  after 
match.  He  got  no  more  flame. 

"  This  is  a  disgracefully  run  house ! "  he  ex 
claimed  aloud.  "  It's  high  time  I  heard  something 
about  it !  Here  I  am  two  hours  late  and  can't  get 
enough  heat  to  cook  an  egg !  " 

Very  angry,  he  marched  out  on  a  hunt  for  the 
janitor;  but,  after  climbing  up  and  down  stairs 
and  making  inquiries  on  every  landing,  he  had  come 
no  nearer  to  discovering  the  janitor.  A  gentle 
man  named  Dugan  thought  that  the  janitor  might 
be  engaged  in  tenpins  at  Bauer's  popular  corner 
resort.  Smith  repaired  thither,  but  could  not  dis 
cover  him.  Another  gentleman,  named  Clancy, 
emerging  from  the  two-room  apartment  adjoining 
Smith's,  came  in  at  Smith's  invitation  and  rubbed 
a  flat,  rough  thumb  up  and  down  the  range.  Then 
he  departed,  scratching  his  head  and  advising  fur 
ther  search  for  the  jaintor. 
88 


THE   TREE   OF   DREAMS 

"  Ye  cud  cook  a  bit  an'  a  sup  on  our  own  range," 
he  said,  "  but  th'  ould  woman  do  be  bilin'  shirrts." 

When  Mr.  Clancy  had  departed  Smith  spent  ten 
more  minutes  tinkering  with  the  range,  growing 
hungrier  and  hungrier  every  second.  But,  hungry, 
angry  and  discouraged  as  he  was,  he  obstinately 
refused  to  consider  a  restaurant  as  even  a  tempo 
rary  solution.  Once  more  he  set  off  down  the  end 
less  iron  and  concrete  stairway  to  hunt  up  the 
janitor;  and,  returning  unsuccessful,  encountered 
the  janitor  on  his  own  landing.  The  janitor  was 
talking  to  the  girl  with  the  blue  eyes. 

"  Please  don't  let  me  interrupt  you,"  said  Smith ; 
"  it's  only  that  I  can't  work  my  range." 

"  You  are  not  interrupting,"  said  the  girl  with 
the  blue  eyes.  "  My  ceiling  is  beginning  to  fall, 
that  is  all." 

66  I'll  have  that  attended  to  at  once !  "  exclaimed 
Smith,  forgetting  his  role  of  tenant — "  that  is," 
he  added,  in  confusion,  "  the  janitor  will  notify 
M ,  the  agent.  You  will,  won't  you?  "  he  con 
tinued,  turning  to  the  janitor,  whose  face  had  been 
growing  redder  and  redder  as  he  grew  madder 
and  madder. 

"  Where  do  you  think  you  are  ?  "  he  demanded. 
"  In  the  Waldorf  ?  An'  who  do  you  think  you  are, 
young  man?  John  D.?  or  the  Dutch  Emp'ror? 
89 


THE   TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

Or  do  you  think  you're  J.  Abingdon  Smith,  the 
owner  of  this  here  plant,  because  you  look  like  his 
grandfather's  hired  man  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Smith,  turning  red.  "  I  had 
no  intention  of  interfering." 

"  Well,  you  go  and  sit  on  your  range  and  keep 
it  warm  till  I  get  a  gasfitter,  see ! "  growled  the 
janitor;  "  an'  mebbe  he'll  fix  it  to-night,"  he  said, 
looking  back  malevolently  over  his  shoulder  as  he 
descended  the  stairs,  "  an'  mebbe  he'll  fix  it  next 
month.  You  mind  your  business,  young  man,  an' 
I'll  mind  yours." 

Smith,  tingling  all  over,  looked  after  him,  but 
his  anger  passed  with  a  shrug  and  a  short  laugh 
as  he  realized  that  the  rebuke  had  been  in  a  fash 
ion  his  own  fault. 

He  had  made  a  step  across  the  hallway  toward 
his  own  room,  when  he  remembered  the  girl  with 
the  blue  eyes. 

"  I'm  sorry  I  caused  any  unpleasantness,"  he 
said.  "  I  hope  the  janitor  won't  visit  his  petty 
tyranny  on  you." 

"  I  don't  think  he  will ;  I —  Can't  you  make 
your  range  burn  properly  ?  " 

"  No,"   he   said,   smiling.      "  It   blew  up   three 
times,  and  now  it  has  retired  from  active  business. 
I  believe  it  has  become  permanently  extinct." 
90 


THE   TREE   OF   DREAMS 

"  Perhaps,"  she  ventured,  "  you  are  not  accus 
tomed  to  gas  ranges.  Are  you?  " 

"  No,  but  I've  got  to  learn  to  manage  them  if 
I'm  to  do  any  cooking."  He  thought  she  meant 
to  speak  again,  but,  as  she  said  no  more,  he  turned 
to  his  own  door.  Behind  him  a  hesitating  voice 
began : 

"  You  may  use  my  range  to  cook  on — until  your 
own  is  repaired,  if  you  wish " 

"  That's  awfully  nice  of  you,"  he  said,  grate 
fully  surprised.  "  I've  only  a  couple  of  eggs  to 
fry — or  boil — and  a  little  coffee,  but  I  didn't  like 
to  ask  you " 

"  You  didn't.  I  asked  you,"  she  said.  "  You 
are  quite  welcome."  And,  as  he  still  hesitated :  "  I 
really  don't  mind,"  she  said.  "  I  can  take  my  work 
somewhere  else  while  you  are  cooking." 

"  No,  no,"  he  protested,  beginning  to  realize  the 
inconvenience  he  was  causing  her ;  but  she  nodded 
impatiently  and,  stepping  back  into  her  room,  be 
gan  to  gather  up  into  a  writing  portfolio  a  mass 
of  scattered  papers. 

A  few  moments  later  he  appeared  in  the  open 
doorway,  his  arms  piled  high  with  the  paper  pack 
ages  containing  groceries.  She  looked  up  at  him, 
her  hands  full  of  inky  papers.  Unbidden  laugh 
ter  was  sparkling  in  her  blue  eyes. 
91 


THE    TREE   OF  HEAVEN 

"  The  range  is  ready,"  she  said,  schooling  her 
voice.  "  You  may  begin  at  once.  I  shall  be  gone 
in  a  second."  And  she  began  to  rummage  furi 
ously  among  the  papers. 

Sidelong  glances  she  could  not  help  casting 
at  his  culinary  preparations.  She  saw  him  ruin 
two  eggs,  and  hid  her  face  in  the  table  drawer 
where  she  was  searching  for  that  elusive  some 
thing. 

"  No  use  trying  to  fry  those  eggs,"  he  observed, 
gazing  at  the  disintegrating  yolks. 

"  You  could  scramble  them,"  she  suggested, 
raising  her  pretty  head.  Her  face  was  delicately 
flushed ;  a  bright  strand  of  hair,  loosened,  fell  like 
a  tendril  across  one  pink  cheek. 

"  To  scramble  an  egg,"  he  said  slowly,  as  though 
attempting  to  recall  some  intricate  evolution  in 
cookery — "  To  scramble  an  egg,  you  stir  it  round 
and  round,  I  believe." 

"  And  to  scramble  two  eggs,"  she  said  almost 
hysterically,  "  you  stir  them  both  round  and 
round." 

"But,"  he  added  thoughtfully,  "  how  to  get 
them  into  the  pan.  I  suppose  one  pours  them 
in " 

"  Don't !  Please  don't !  You  have  put  no  but 
ter  in  yet,"  she  said ;  but  he  had  already  poured  a 
92 


THE   TREE   OF   DREAMS 

spoonful  into  the  pan,  where  it  began  to  char  and 
sputter  and  smoke. 

She  laid  aside  her  portfolio  and  papers,  removed 
the  smoking  pan,  scraped  it,  tinkered  with  it,  and 
then,  preparing  it  properly,  poured  in  the  remain 
der  of  the  eggs. 

"  It's  awfully  good  of  you.  I'm  ashamed  of 
myself,"  he  muttered ;  "  but,  please — please  don't 
mind  about  the  coffee.  I  can  do  that,  I'm 
sure." 

"  It  will  take  only  a  moment,"  she  said.  "  You 
are  not  accustomed  to — to — gas  ranges,  I  see." 

Before  he  knew  it  his  modest  luncheon  was  ready. 
She  swept  the  papers  from  the  table,  threw  over 
it  a  white  square  of  linen,  and  placed  his  luncheon 
under  his  mortified  eyes. 

"  It  will  get  cold  if  you  attempt  to  carry  it 
back  to  your  room.  You  are  quite  welcome  to  eat 
it  here,  believe  me.  My  range  may  fail  me  some 
day  and  I  may  have  to  beg  a  little  fire  at  your 
door." 

"  You  shall  have  oceans  of  it !  "  he  cried  grate 
fully. 

"  Thank  you ;  and,  please,  begin.  I  am  on  my 
way  out." 

"  Am  I  driving  you  away  ?     I  know  I  am 

"  No,  really  you  are  not.  I  work  out  of  doors 
93 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

all  I  can.  I  was  going  out  as  soon  as  the  janitor 
came  to  examine  my  ceiling."  She  raised  her 
pretty  eyes;  he  looked  aloft. 

"It's  a  leak,"  he  said.  "I'll  have  it  fi— 
I  mean  I'll  tell  the  jan—  What  I  do  mean," 
he  said,  "  is  that  somebody  ought  to  have  it 
fixed." 

"  I  think  so,  too,"  she  said  demurely,  gathering 
up  her  portfolio  and  papers.  At  the  doorsill  she 
halted: 

"  But — but  how — but  who  is  going  to  lock  my 
door  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Oh,  I'd  better  take  my  luncheon  into  my  own 
room !  " 

"  No,  no.  Please  sit  down  again.  Please  do  so 
now!  I  can  leave  my  key  with  you  if  you  are 
going  to  be  here." 

He  thought  to  himself,  charmed,  what  touch 
ing  confidence  the  poor  have  in  each  other's 
honesty. 

She  drew  from  her  purse  the  door  key  and  laid 
it  beside  his  plate. 

"  If  I  don't  hear  you  in  the  hallway,  will  you 
please  knock?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  think  you  had  better  leave  the  key  with  the 
janitor,"  she  said ;  then,  thinking  further  along 
the  same  line :  "  or  perhaps  you  had  better  hide  it." 
94 


THE   TREE   OF   DREAMS 

She  stepped  back  into  the  hallway  and  looked  all 
around;  but  no  plausible  hiding  place  presented 
itself.  Then  she  gazed  at  him. 

"  I  might  leave  it  with  my  neighbor,  Mrs. 
Clancy,"  he  said  with  rare  intelligence. 

"  No,"  she  said  with  her  pretty,  fearless  smile, 
"  I  will  knock  at  your  door  and  ask  for  it." 

She  was  gone  before  he  could  rise  again. 

When  he  had  finished  he  washed  the  dishes  and 
did  it  thoroughly,  restoring  each  to  its  shelf.  His 
remaining  groceries  and  his  own  tinware  he  car 
ried  into  his  own  habitation,  came  back  and  locked 
her  door,  and  then,  lighting  his  pipe,  began  to 
prowl  about  the  corridors. 

Presently  he  fished  out  a  pad  and  pencil,  and, 
squatting  down  on  the  stairway,  made  some  notes 
concerning  the  use  of  steel  for  doorsills  and 
frames,  and  tiles  or  tassellated  floors  to  replace 
the  already  worn  and  dirty  planks  of  Southern 
pine. 

"  First  of  all,  plenty  of  ventilation,"  he  mur 
mured.  "  Next,  cleanliness ;  next,  light.  ...  I 
—I've  a  mind  to  complete  the  entire  block — put  up 
a  big,  square  tower  on  that  vacant  lot — a  big, 
clean,  airy  tower,  ten  stories — sixteen — twenty,  by 
jingo!" 

He  seized  his  pad  with  enthusiasm  and  drew  a 
95 


THE   TREE   OF   HEAVEN 


plan  of  the  block  which  he  owned  with  the  present 
model  tenements  on  it  and  showing  the  vacant  lot  : 


J    L 


J    L 


Street 


I    I  I 

There  were  no  windows  giving  on  the  vacant  lot 
— nothing  but  blank  brick  walls. 

"  That's  what  I'll  do,"  he  thought.  "  I'll  have 
my  own  way  for  once.  I'll  plan  and  design  and 
build  an  absolutely  beautiful  and  sanitary  tower 
with  a  hundred  rooms  and  two  elevators  in  it,  and 
Kerns  can  laugh  if  he  wants  to.  What  these  peo 
ple  need  is  light  and  air — cheap  light  and  cheap 
air.  I'll  just  go  down  and  take  a  look  at  that 
lot." 

He  pocketed  pad  and  pencil,  seized  his  hat,  and, 
locking  his  door  on  the  outside,  ran  down  the 
stairs. 

"  You  can't  go  into  that  lot,"  said  the  janitor. 
"  No  tenants  ain't  allowed  in  there  by  orders  of 
Mr.  Kerns." 

"  Well,  can't  I  just  look  at  it?  " 

"  No,"  said  the  janitor.     "  An'  lemme  tell  you 


THE   TREE   OF   DREAMS 

something  else.  If  you  an'  me  is  goin'  to  gee  you'd 
better  do  less  buttin'  in  an'  less  runnin'  up  an' 
downstairs.  You  butt  in  an'  you  run  around  like 
you  was  the  Dutch  Emp'ror.  Say,  what  are  you 
lookin'  for,  anyhow?  If  you're  a  spotter,  say  so; 
I  ain't  worryin'.  If  you're  just  loony  you're  in 
the  wrong  hotel." 

"  But,  my  good  fellow " 

"Forget  it!"  retorted  the  janitor  wrathfully. 
"  Your  good  fellow !  Look  here,  Percy,  I  ain't 
your  good  fellow,  nor  I  ain't  your  dear  old  college 
chum,  an'  no  buttin'  in  goes.  See?" 

"  I'm  not  attempting  to  offend  you !  "  exclaimed 
Smith  desperately. 

"  That's  all  right,  too,"  said  the  janitor  uncon 
vinced.  "  You  seen  me  talkin'  to  Miss  Stevens  an' 
you  make  a  play  like  you  owned  the  buildin'. 
'  Here,  me  good  man,'  sez  you,  '  fix  this  an'  fix 

that,  an'  be  d d  quick  about  it,  too,'  sez 

you " 

"I  didn't,"  retorted  Smith  indignantly;  "at 
least  I  didn't  mean  to  say " 

"  What  you  are,"  interrupted  the  janitor  delib 
erately,  "  God  knows  an'  I  don't.  You  may  be 
makin'  phony  stuff  up  there  fur  all  I  know." 

"What's  phony  stuff?"  demanded  Smith,  get 
ting  hotter. 

97 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

"  Look  into  the  dictionary,  Clarence,"  retorted 
the  janitor,  and  slammed  the  door  of  his  office  in 
Smith's  face. 

"  That  man,"  thought  Smith  to  himself,  as  he 
started  up  the  stairs,  "  is  a  singularly  impudent 
man,  but  he's  probably  faithful  enough.  I  shall 
not  do  anything  about  it.  But  I  wish  I  could  get 
into  my  vacant  lot." 

The  remainder  of  the  afternoon  he  spent  draw 
ing  magnificently  unbuildable  plans  for  his  tower. 

Then  he  pulled  his  chair  out  into  the  fire  escape 
and  sat  there  through  the  sunset  hour  and  into  the 
smoky  June  twilight. 

Suddenly,  as  he  sat  there,  dreaming,  a  faint 
sound  at  his  door  brought  him  to  his  feet  and  into 
the  room. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said.  "  I  was  out  on 
the  fire  escape.  Did  you  knock  more  than  once?  " 

"  It  doesn't  matter,"  she  said,  smiling  under  the 
shadow  of  her  big  straw  hat  and  taking  her  key 
from  him. 

"  I'm  terribly  sorry,"  he  repeated,  "  and  I  really 
am  very  grateful  for  letting  me  cook  on  your 
range " 

"  Is  yours  fixed  yet?  "  she  asked  diffidently. 

"  By  George !  "  he  said.  "  I'd  forgotten  that ! 
But  it  doesn't  matter,"  he  added,  determined  to  dine 
98 


THE   TREE   OF   DREAMS 

on  the  remainder  of  his  rolls  and  milk,  for  he  sim 
ply  would  not  begin  by  running  to  a  restaurant 
at  the  first  mishap. 

She  hesitated,  not  knowing  whether  again  to 
offer  her  salt  and  fire ;  then,  finding  it  too  difficult, 
she  said  "  Good  night "  in  a  low  voice,  and  crossed 
the  hallway  to  her  own  abode.  And  there  she  sat 
down,  fair  face  tense,  gaze  concentrated  on  space, 
her  big  straw  hat  still  on  her  head,  her  portfolio 
and  papers  in  her  lap. 

Minutes  ticked  away  on  the  little  nickel  alarm 
clock.  She  pondered  on,  and,  sometimes,  her 
straight,  delicate  brows  contracted,  and,  sometimes, 
her  teeth  worried  the  edge  of  her  lower  lip;  and 
once  she  smiled  and  lifted  her  eyes  as  though  she 
could  see  through  her  closed  door  into  his  room 
across  the  hall. 

After  that  she  rose,  made  her  toilet,  cooked  her 
own  supper;  and  when,  at  length,  the  dishes  had 
been  laid  away  and  her  pretty  hands  rinsed,  care 
fully  examined,  and  soothed  with  glycerine  and 
cream  of  almonds — luxuries  she  preferred  to  a 
varied  menu — she  laid  a  pile  of  yellow  manuscript 
paper  on  her  table,  and,  dipping  her  pen  into  the 
ink,  began  to  scribble  like  mad.  For,  at  last,  her 
chance  in  life  had  come. 

Meanwhile,  Smith,  doggedly  munching  his  but- 
99 


THE   TREE   OF  HEAVEN 

tered  rolls,  drank  his  milk  and  considered  plans 
for  doing  good  to  his  tenants  without  either  injur 
ing  their  self-respect  or  bankrupting  himself. 

"  Buy  up  block  after  block,  cover  'em  with  hand 
some  sanitary  tenements,  with  a  big,  grassy  court 
and  a  fountain  in  the  middle — that's  the  decent  and 
self-respecting  way  to  invest  one's  surplus !  That's 
the  only  way  a  rich  man  can  keep  his  own  respect 
and  administer  his  stewardship.  I'd  be  ashamed 
to  make  any  more  money!  I  won't!  I'd  be 
ashamed  to  keep  what  I  have  if  I  didn't  use  the 
income  to  help  somebody.  Clean,  airy,  sunny 
homes — within  the  means  of  the  poorest  working 
people !  It  can  be  done  without  making  it  a  char 
ity.  It's  got  to  be  done.  I'm  going  to  build  that 
tower — if  my  janitor  ever  lets  me  into  the  lot 

After  he  had  completed  his  ablutions  and  was 
ready  for  bed  he  stood  a  moment  at  the  open 
window  looking  out  over  the  city. 

"  That  girl — she  was  very  nice  to  me.  .  .  .  I've 
the  oddest  notion  that  I've  seen  her  before  .  .  . 
somewhere.  Wonderfully — ah — decorative — her 
eyes — a  graceful  way  of — er — moving." 

He  lay  down  on  his  bed  and  pulled  up  the  sheet. 

A  few  minutes  later  he  murmured  drowsily: 
"  Build  handsome  tower — spite  of  Kerns.  .  .  . 
Nobody  pay  rent.  .  .  .  'Strordinary  eyes  that  girl 
100 


THE   TREE   OF  DREAMS 

.  .  .  pretty  blue — very  blue  for — a — "a,  -ga.\.'  .,  ; :  J 
'Strordinary  rot  I'm  talking.  ...  G'night,  Smith; 
.  .  .  night!" 


The  next  morning  a  pessimistic  gasfitter  re 
paired  Smith's  range.  That  night  it  blew  up 
again.  Two  days  later  it  was  again  in  commis 
sion,  then  remained  quiescent  for  a  week.  After 
that  the  range  worked  fitfully,  intimidating  Smith 
until  it  had  him  so  thoroughly  cowed  that  he  never 
attempted  to  light  it  except  with  the  match  in 
serted  in  the  end  of  a  broom  handle.  Between  the 
range  and  the  cookery  he  was  almost  famished. 

However,  it  was  a  matter  of  too  little  importance 
to  disturb  him  in  his  purpose;  the  days  were  full 
days  indeed,  no  matter  how  empty  he  went.  Hour 
after  hour  he  sat  cramped  over  the  table,  drawing 
impossible  plans  and  elevations  for  the  completion 
of  his  model  tenements.  Hour  after  hour  he 
tramped  the  hot  streets  in  search  of  likely  sites  for 
further  philanthropic  operations. 

Almost  every  morning  and  evening  he  was  sure 
to  encounter  his  blue-eyed  neighbor  on  the  landing 
or  stairs ;  and,  after  a  while,  he  began  to  spend  a 
few  minutes  of  the  day  in  looking  forward  to  these 
brief  meetings. 

Matters  were  not  going  very  well  with  his  blue- 
101 


THE   TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

ey^d  neighbor ;  but  he  didn't  know  it.  Her  work, 
always  precarious  and  dependent  on  the  whims  of 
several  underpaid  people,  was  not  sufficient  to  keep 
her  very  well  nourished  during  the  hot  months  of 
midsummer.  She  defaulted  on  the  July  payment 
for  her  small  piano,  and  they  took  it  away.  The 
little  desk  went  later ;  an  armchair  followed. 

Alone  in  her  room,  palely  considering  the  why 
and  wherefore  of  the  disagreeable,  she  invariably 
almost  fell  a  prey  to  temptation;  but,  so  far,  the 
victory  had  remained  with  her.  Temptation  came 
when  somebody  refused  her  work  or  when  some 
body  removed  an  article  of  furniture  for  nonpay 
ment  of  the  installment  due,  and  the  temptation 
confronted  her  in  the  shape  of  a  packet  of  yellow 
manuscript. 

She  was  the  author  of  the  manuscript ;  it  lay  in  a 
drawer  of  her  table. 

Sometimes,  when  they  frightened  her  by  giving 
her  no  work  or  by  lugging  off  a  chair,  she  would 
sit  down,  white  and  desperate,  and  take  out  her 
manuscript  and  read  it  through. 

She  knew  where  she  could  place  it  in  an  hour. 
She  had  been  promised  a  permanent  position  on  the 
strength  of  just  such  work.  It  was  well  done,  of 
its  sort.  It  fairly  bristled  with  double-leaded  head 
lines  ;  it  was  yellow  enough  for  the  yellowest — a 
102 


THE    TREE   OF   DREAMS 

"  beat,"  a  "  scoop,"  a  story  that  would  be  copied  in 
every  newspaper  of  the  country.  The  title  of  it 
was  "  A  Millionaire  in  Disguise."  The  subject, 
Smith.  She  had  only  to  show  it  to  the  city  editor 
who  had  promised  to  take  her  on  the  first  time  she 
displayed  any  ability.  All  she  had  to  do  was  to 
tuck  the  yellow  sheets  under  her  arm  and  start 
downtown,  and  that  would  end  all  this  removing 
of  furniture  and  scarcity  of  foodstuffs — all  this 
sleeplessness,  this  perplexed  dismay — all  these 
heavy-hearted  journeys  to  the  offices  of  the  fashion 
papers  where  sometimes  she  was  paid  for  her  arti 
cles  on  domestic  affairs  and  sometimes  not. 

After  these  experiences  she  usually  returned  to 
the  temptation  of  her  yellow  manuscript,  read  it 
through,  wept  a  little,  cast  it  from  her  into  the 
table  drawer  once  more,  and  buried  her  face  in  her 
slim  hands.  Later,  she  usually  dried  her  eyes,  hur 
riedly  gathered  up  her  papers  and  portfolio,  and, 
locking  the  door  on  the  outside,  descended  to  the 
cellar. 

In  this  profound  crypt  a  small  iron  door  and  a 
few  stone  steps  ascending  permitted  her  access  to 
the  vacant  lot  which  the  janitor  had  forbidden 
Smith  to  enter.  And  here  she  was  accustomed  to 
sit  in  the  long,  rank  grass  under  a  big  ailantus 
tree,  writing  for  the  fashion  papers,  to  which  she 
8  103 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

contributed  such  predigested  pabulum  as  the  weak- 
minded  might  assimilate.  In  this  manner  she  paid 
for  lodging,  board,  and  almond  cream. 

Meanwhile,  she  was  growing  shyer  and  more 
formal  with  Smith  when  they  chanced  to  meet  on 
stairs  or  landing.  Beginning  with  the  politely 
pleasant  exchange  of  a  few  words  concerning  the 
initial  episode  which  had  excused  their  acquaint 
ance,  they  had  ventured  on  a  little  laughter  at  his 
expense — a  shade  less  of  the  impersonal.  But, 
little  by  little,  the  pretty,  fearless  gaze  which  he 
found  so  attractive  changed  to  something  more 
reserved  and  far  less  expressive.  Her  laughter, 
always  edging  lips  and  eyes,  her  untroubled  voice, 
with  its  winningly  careless  sweetness,  changed,  too. 
He  noticed  this.  Sometimes  he  wondered  whether 
she  was  quite  well.  He  had  been  aware  from  the 
first  that  she  did  not  belong  in  her  surroundings 
any  more  than  did  he,  and  at  times  he  speculated 
on  the  subject,  wondering  what  crumbling  of  her 
social  and  financial  fabric  had  landed  her  here  on 
her  own  resources,  stranded  along  the  outer  edges 
of  things. 

One    scorching   day   he   had  been    drawing    an 

elevation  for  his  tower,  which  partook  impartially 

of    the    worst    in    both    Manhattan,    Gothic,    and 

Chinese  architecture — a  new  crinkle  in  his  theory 

104 


THE   TREE   OF   DREAMS 

being  that  the  poor  had  a  right  to  the  best  in  art, 
and  that  they  should  have  it  in  spite  of  Kerns. 
For  an  hour  he  had  been  trying  to  estimate  the 
cost  of  such  a  masterpiece,  and  had  grown  cross 
and  discouraged  in  the  effort. 

July  was  fast  going.  August  already  had  been 
discounted  by  the  monthly  magazines;  he  had 
purchased  one  which  contained  an  article  on  con 
crete  construction,  and,  tired  of  his  sweltering 
room,  he  put  on  his  hat,  pocketed  the  magazine, 
and  went  out  to  seek  a  bit  of  shade  in  Central 
Park. 

As  he  passed  his  neighbor's  door  he  glanced  at 
it  a  trifle  wistfully.  He  had  not  seen  her  now  for 
nearly  a  week.  He  actually  missed  her,  even 
though  now  she  seldom  seemed  to  have  the  leisure 
or  inclination  to  chat  with  him. 

The  last  time,  he  reflected,  that  they  had  ex 
changed  a  dozen  words,  he  had,  lured  by  her  recep 
tively  intelligent  attitude,  drifted  into  an  almost 
enthusiastic  dissertation  upon  model  lodgings  for 
the  poor.  He  had  kept  her  standing  before  her 
door  for  almost  half  an  hour  while  he,  forgetting 
everything  except  the  subject  and  the  acquies 
cence  of  his  audience,  had  aired  his  theories  with 
a  warmth  and  brilliancy  which,  later,  it  slightly 
astonished  him  to  remember. 
105 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

Since  that  they  had  exchanged  scarcely  a  word. 
And  now,  as  he  passed  her  door,  he  looked  wist 
fully  at  it,  thinking  of  his  slender  neighbor. 

And,  thinking  of  her,  he  descended  the  stairs, 
and,  still  immersed  in  this  agreeable  reverie,  he  did 
not  notice  that  he  had  passed  the  ground  floor  and 
was  descending  the  cellar  stairs,  until  he  came  to 
in  front  of  an  iron  door.  This  seemed  unfamiliar. 
He  took  out  his  handkerchief  to  rub  his  glasses, 
looked  around  at  the  furnaces  and  coal  bins,  passed 
his  hand  over  his  eyes,  replaced  the  glasses,  gazed 
at  the  iron  door  which  was  partly  ajar,  and  caught 
a  glimpse  of  green  grass  outside. 

"  I'll  bet  that's  my  vacant  lot,"  he  said  aloud, 
and,  opening  the  door,  he  ascended  the  stone  steps 
into  his  own  property. 

There  was  green  grass  everywhere;  south  and 
west  a  high  board  fence ;  north  and  east  the  brick, 
windowless,  rearward  cliffs  of  the  tenements ;  in  the 
middle  of  the  lot  an  ailantus  tree  in  full  foliage. 

And,  under  it,  a  young  girl  lying  in  the  grass, 
her  wide  straw  hat  hanging  from  a  leafy  branch 
above.  Even  before  he  stirred  in  his  tracks  she 
sat  up,  instinctively  looking  across  the  grass  at 
him.  It  was  his  duty  to  make  his  excuses  and  go. 
But,  for  almost  the  first  time  in  his  life,  he  de 
liberately  neglected  duty. 
106 


THE   TREE   OF   DREAMS 

"  So  this  is  where  you  come  every  day  to  work 
out  of  doors !  "  he  exclaimed,  smiling,  as  he  halted 
beside  her  where  she  remained,  seated  in  the  grass, 
looking  up  at  him. 

There  was  color  in  her  face  and  in  his,  too.  He 
had  had  absolutely  no  idea  how  pleasant  it  could 
be  to  meet  his  neighbor  again  after  so  many  days 
— seven  in  number — but  a  great  many  all  the 
same. 

Then  he  told  her,  laughingly,  how  he  came  to 
discover  the  cellar  door  that  led  to  Paradise. 
"  Paradise,"  he  repeated ;  "  for,  you  see,  the  Tree 
of  Ten  Thousand  Dreams  is  here.  Did  you  know 
that  the  ailantus  tree  is  the  Chinese  Tree  of 
Paradise — the  fabled  Tree  of  Dreams  ?  Have  you 
never  heard  of  the  Feng-Shui?  Dragons  live  deep 
in  the  earth  among  the  tree  roots.  You  didn't 
know  that,  did  you?  " 

"  No,"  he  said,  smiling,  "  I  didn't  know 
that." 

He  looked  at  her.  Her  manner  was  not  very 
cordial,  and  he  decided  not  to  ask  permission  to 
seat  himself  just  yet.  But  he  had  nothing  in 
particular  to  say  to  her  and  he  was  very  anxious 
to  say  it. 

''  The  Fung-Hwang  also  perches  in  the  branches 
of  the  Dream  Tree,"  he  continued,  for  lack  of  a 

107 


THE   TREE   OF  HEAVEN 

better  topic ;  "  it's  an  imperial  as  well  as  a  celestial 
tree.  Are  you  interested  in  Chinese  mythology? 
If  you  are  not,  it's  all  right,  because  I  am  inter 
ested  in  anything  you  like." 

She  looked  up  at  the  foliage  above  her.  "  It 
is  a  curious  tree,"  she  said.  "  In  early  June  these 
branches  were  full  of  great  olive  and  rose-colored 
moths,  enormous  ones,  flopping  about  at  sunset 
like  big,  soft  bats.  In  the  daytime  they  hang  to 
the  leaves  and  bark,  wings  wide — such  beautiful, 
such  miraculous  wings — set  with  silvery  quarter- 
moons  !  " 

She  raised  both  hands  to  the  nape  of  her  neck 
to  smooth  and  secure  her  hair — a  most  fascinating 
gesture,  he  thought,  watching  her  seated  there 
in  the  grass,  slim  and  graceful  as  the  lovely  lotus- 
bearing  goddess,  Kwan-Yin. 

"  Silvery  quarter-moons,"  she  repeated,  "  and 
now,  look!  The  silver  has  changed  into  metal 
pendants!"  She  pointed  upward  where,  among 
the  foliage,  shining,  white  cocoons  swung  from 
silk-wound  stems,  each  wrapped  in  its  single  green 
leaf. 

"  Wonderful  fairy  fruit  your  Tree  of  Dreams 
bears  !  "  he  said.  "  And  how  thickly  it  hangs  !  I 
don't  know  much  about  such  things.  I  was  in 
clined  to  be  fond  of  all  that  until  I  read  some 
108 


THE    TREE   OF   DREAMS 

modern  nature  books.  So  I  fell  back  on  real 
myths  again." 

She  began  to  laugh  and,  meeting  in  her  eyes  all 
the  old-tirne  friendliness,  he  ventured  to  ask  if  he 
might  seat  himself. 

"  Yes,"  she  said  gravely,  "  but  I  must  be 
going." 

"  Then  I  don't  care  to  stay  here,"  he  said,  un 
prepared  to  hear  himself  utter  any  such  senti 
ment.  His  astonishment  at  himself  overcame  even 
the  reaction  which  turned  his  face  red.  She,  too, 
surprised,  looked  at  him  unconvinced. 

"  What  have  I  to  do  with  it  ?  "  she  inquired. 

"  The  fact  is,"  he  said  impressively,  as  though 
the  intelligence  were  well  worth  sharing  with  her, 
"  I  have  been  rather  lonely." 

"  Have  you?  "  she  asked,  wide-eyed.  "  So  have 
I.  But  I  usually  am." 

"  I  wish  you  had  said  so !  " 

"  How  could  I?    And  to  whom?  " 

They  said  nothing  more  for  a  while.  The  sun 
light,  filtering  through  the  Tree  of  Dreams,  glim 
mered  on  her  hair.  Her  eyes,  darker  in  the 
shadow,  dwelt  tranquilly  upon  the  waste  of  thick, 
tall  grass  which  the  languid  breezes  furrowed  now 
and  then. 

"  Do  you  mind  my  offering  you  my  f  riend- 
109 


THE   TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

ship?  "  he  asked  at  length;  "  for  that's  what  I'm 
doing." 

"  No,  I  don't  mind,"  she  replied  listlessly. 
"  Other  men  have  done  that." 

"  Will  you  accept — this  time  ?  " 

"  Shall  I  ?  "  she  asked,  raising  her  clear  eyes. 
"  Shall  I?  I  have  been  here  two  years — and  I  have 
made  no  friends." 

She  folded  her  unringed  hands  on  her  knees, 
examined  them  with  calm  inattention,  and  said: 
"  After  a  while,  I  suppose,  a  girl  becomes 
partly  stupefied  under  the  strain  of  it  all  —  the 
tension  of  self-respecting  silence.  Two  years 
of  self-suppression!  Even  pickpockets  receive 
a  sentence  more  humane.  Shall  I  try  your 
remedy  ?  " 

"  It  would  be  very  j  oily  to  see  each  other,  now 
and  then,"  he  said,  so  pleasantly  that  she  smiled  at 
his  simplicity. 

"  What  about  the  conventions  ?  "  she  inquired, 
amused.  "  Still,  after  all,  what  has  a  girl  to  do 
with  conventions  who  lives  as  I  live?  Her  problem 
is  a  great  deal  simpler  than  to  bother  with  usages." 
There  was  a  defiant  smile  hovering  about  eyes  and 
lips — a  hint  of  recklessness  in  the  bright  color 
rising  under  his  gaze :  "  A  girl  can't  live  and 
flourish  on  silence." 

110 


THE   TREE   OF   DREAMS 

"  You  always  hurry  past  me  when  we  meet " 

"  But  surely  you  didn't  expect  me  to  invite  you 
to  a  seat  on  the  stairs,  did  you?  " 

"  I  wish  you  had." 

"  Then  why  didn't  you  invite  me  ?  "  she  asked 
with  a  gay  audacity  new  to  him.  For,  in  the 
summer  sunshine  of  the  moment,  she  was  forget 
ting  all  except  the  pleasure  of  the  moment  and 
its  pretense  that  the  old  order  of  things  had  re 
turned.  Sunshine  and  green  grass  and  the  sophis 
ticated  city  breeze  in  the  leaves  above  —  youth, 
and  ardent  health,  and  one  of  her  own  kind 
to  speak  to  after  the  arid  silence  of  these  sad 
months  —  what  wonder  that  she  willfully  for 
got?  What  wonder  that  she  dared  to  breathe 
and  laugh  again,  drifting  and  relaxing  in  the 
moment's  merciful  relief  from  a  tension  that 
had  benumbed  her  to  the  verge  of  actual  stu 
pidity  ? 

Afterwards,  in  her  room,  the  relaxed  strain 
tightened  again.  She  realized  their  acquaintance 
was  only  an  episode — she  knew  his  advent  here  was 
but  a  caprice.  But  it  was  an  interim  that  gave 
her  a  chance — a  brief  vacation  in  which  she  might 
breathe  for  a  moment  before  the  inevitable  re 
turned  again  to  submerge  her.  And  she  meant  to 
enjoy  it  with  all  her  heart — every  moment,  every 
111 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

atom  of  sunshine,  every  bright  second  of  respite 
from  what  she  actually  dared  look  forward  to  no 
longer. 

That  first  meeting  under  the  ailantus  tree  was 
only  one  of  a  sequence. 

At  first,  when  he  came  sauntering  across  the 
grass,  she  politely  laid  aside  her  work — disserta 
tion  on  flounces  and  napkins  and  old  mahogany 
and  the  care  of  infants,  and  what  Heppelwhite 
knew  about  table  legs,  and  why  Sheraton  is  usually 
saluted  as  Chippendale. 

Later,  she  continued  her  work  unembarrassed 
as  long  as  she  was  able  to  concentrate  her  mind 
under  the  agreeable  little  shock  of  pleasure  which 
his  advent  always  brought  to  her. 

"  How  did  you  find  out  all  about  such  things  ?  " 
he  asked  curiously,  looking  over  her  manuscripts 
with  her  shrugged  permission. 

"  All  about  what  things?  " 

"  These — ah — crooked-legged  tables  and  squat 
ty  chairs  ?  " 

"  I  had  them — once." 

"  I  see,"  he  said  gravely.  Then,  with  embar 
rassed  hesitation,  but  very  nicely :  "  There  must 
have  been  a  pretty  bad  smash-up  ?  " 

She  nodded. 

112 


THE    TREE    OF   DREAMS 

"  Ah — I'm  awfully  sorry !  Hope  it's  going  to 
come  out  all  right — some  day." 

"  Thank  you."  But  she  continued  to  be  brief 
and  uncommunicative,  never  volunteering  any 
thing. 

In  the  days  when  she  became  accustomed  to  his 
coming  to  find  her  under  the  tree,  she  ventured  to 
continue  her  writing,  merely  greeting  him  with 
a  nod  of  confidence  and  pleasure.  And  so  he  fell 
into  the  habit  of  bringing  his  own  impossible  plans 
and  elevations  to  the  vacant  lot.  And  often,  biting 
her  pencil  reflectively,  she  would  cast  side  glances 
at  him  where  he  lay,  flat  in  the  grassy  shade, 
drawing  board  under  his  nose,  patiently  construct 
ing  lines  and  angles  and  Corinthian  capitals  and 
Romanesque  back  doors.  He  was  a  very,  very 
poor  draughtsman ;  even  she  could  see  that. 

"  I'm  doing  this  for  a  man  who  means  to  build 
a  big  tower  on  this  lot,"  he  explained  cheerfully. 
"  I've  a  notion  he  will  be  delighted  with  this  plan 
of  mine." 

"  Oh,  is  he  going  to  cut  down  your  Tree  of 
Dreams !  "  she  exclaimed,  raising  her  eyes  in  dis 
may. 

He  looked  up  at  the  tree,  then  at  her.      "  By 
Jove!     It  is  a  pity,  isn't  it?  "  he  said,  "  after  the 
jolly  hours  we  have  spent  out  here." 
113 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

"  Perhaps  he  won't  build  his  tower  until  after 
—after " 

"After  what?" 

"  After  we — you  and  I  have  forgotten  all  about 
this  tree —  She  hesitated.  Then  calmly — "  and 
each  other.  Which,  of  course,"  she  laughed, 
"  means  no  tower  at  all." 

He  sat  so  long  silent,  preoccupied  with  his 
drawing,  looking  at  it  half  dreamily,  that  she 
thought  he  had  forgotten  her  rather  foolish  ob 
servations. 

But  he  hadn't;  for  he  said  in  a  troubled  voice: 
"  There's  a  way — a  way  of  taking  up  big  trees. 
I'll  ask  him  to  do  it.  I  don't  want  it  chopped 
down." 

"  You're  afraid  of  angering  the  dragon !  "  she 
said,  laughing.  "  What  use  could  such  a  man  have 
for  an  old  ailantus  tree?  Besides,  where  could  he 
plant  it?" 

"  There's  a  place  I  know  of,"  he  said.  "  I'll 
speak  to  him.  .  .  .  No ;  it  wouldn't  do  to  have  our 
Tree  of  Dreams  cut  down 

"  It's  not  my  tree,"  she  said,  looking  down  at 
her  pencil ;  "  it's  yours." 

"  It  is  yours,"  he  insisted.  "  You  found  it,  and 
I  found  you  under  it." 

"  Oh,  it's  mine  because  I  found  it  ?  "  she  mocked 
114 


THE    TREE   OF   DREAMS 

gayly,  "  and,  I  suppose,  I'm  yours  because  you 
found  me  under  it." 

Her  tongue  had  run  away  that  time.  She 
checked  her  badinage,  picked  up  her  pencil 
with  an  admirable  self-possession  that  admitted 
nothing,  and  scribbled  away  in  calm  insouci 
ance.  Only  the  heightened  brilliancy  of  her  cheeks 
could  have  undeceived  the  adept.  Smith  was  no 
adept;  besides,  he  was  thinking  of  other  mat 
ters. 

"  Do  you  know,"  he  said  solemnly,  "  that  I  am 
going  away  for  about  a  week?  " 

She  congratulated  him  without  raising  her  head 
from  her  writing  pad.  That  was  pure  instinct, 
for  the  emotion  she  had  detected  in  Smith's  voice 
was  perfectly  apparent  in  his  features. 

Smith  gazed  at  her  for  a  long  time,  during 
which  she  grew  busier  and  busier  with  her  pencil, 
and  more  oblivious  of  him. 

The  intellectual  processes  of  Smith  were,  at 
times,  childlike  in  their  circuitous  simplicity. 

"  Do  you  think  I'm  a  good  draughtsman  ?  "  he 
asked. 

"  I  don't  know ;  are  you  ?  "  she  asked,  number 
ing  a  fresh  sheet  of  her  pad. 

"  Why,  you've  seen  my  drawing !  "  he  reminded 
her,  a  little  hurt.  "  I  think  I  am  a  good  draughts- 
115 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

man.  I  could  probably  earn  about  a  hundred  and 
twenty  dollars  a  month." 

"  You  are  very  fortunate,"  she  murmured,  rub 
bing  out  a  sentence. 

"  A  hundred  and  twenty  dollars  a  month  is 
enough  for  anybody  to  marry  on,"  he  continued. 
"  Don't— you  think  so?  " 

"  It  is  probably  sufficient,"  she  said  carelessly. 

"Do#ow  think  it  is?" 

"  I  haven't  considered  such  matters  very  seri 
ously,"  she  said.  "  It  will  be  time  when  I  am  earn 
ing  a  hundred  and  twenty  dollars  a  month.  And 
I'm  not  likely  to  earn  it  if  you  continue  to  inter 
rupt  me." 

Smith  turned  red ;  presently  he  tucked  his  draw 
ing  board  under  his  arm  and  stood  up. 

"  I'm  going,"  he  said.     "  Good-by." 

She  nodded  her  adieux  pleasantly,  scarcely  rais 
ing  her  head  from  her  work. 

But  when  Smith  had  disappeared  she  straight 
ened  up  with  a  quick,  indrawn  breath  and  stared 
across  the  grass  at  the  blank,  brick  walls.  After 
a  long  while  she  dropped  her  tired  shoulders  back 
against  the  trunk  of  the  Tree  of  Dreams,  reclining 
there  inert,  blue  eyes  brooding  in  vacancy. 

Meanwhile,  Smith  had  locked  up  his  room,  gone 
116 


THE    TREE    OF   DREAMS 

home  for  the  first  time  in  two  months,  telephoned 
for  a  stateroom  on  the  Western  Limited,  and 
sent  for  Kerns,  who  presently  arrived  in  an  electric 
cab. 

"  I'm  going  to  Illinois,"  said  Smith,  "  to-night." 

"  The  nation  must  know  of  this,"  insisted 
Kerns ;  "  let  me  telegraph  for  fireworks." 

"  There'll  be  fireworks,"  observed  Smith—"  fire 
works  to  burn,  presently.  I'm  going  to  get  mar 
ried  to  a  working  girl." 

"  Oh,  piffle !  "  said  Kerns  faintly ;  "  let's  go  and 
sit  on  the  third  rail  and  talk  it  over." 

"  Not  with  you,  idiot.  Did  you  ever  hear  of 
Stanley  Stevens,  who  tried  to  corner  wheat?  I 
think  it's  his  daughter  I'm  going  to  marry.  I'm 
going  to  Chicago  to  find  out.  Good  heavens, 
Kerns  !  It's  the  most  pitiful  case,  whoever  she  is ! 
It's  a  case  to  stir  the  manhood  in  any  man.  I 
tell  you  it's  got  to  be  righted.  I  am  thoroughly 
stirred  up,  and  I  won't  stand  any  nonsense  from 
you." 

Kerns  looked  at  him.  "  Smith,"  he  pleaded  in 
sepulchral  tones ;  "  Smithy !  For  the  sake  of  de 
cency  and  of  common  sense " 

"  Exactly,"  nodded  Smith,  picking  up  his  hat 
and  gloves ;  "  for  the  sake  of  decency  and  of 
common  sense.  Good-by,  Tommy.  And — ah !  " 

117 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

indicating  a  parcel  of  papers  on  the  desk — "  just 
have  an  architect  look  over  these  sketches  with  a 
view  to  estimating  the — ah — cost  of  construction. 
And  find  some  good  landscape  gardener  to  figure 
up  what  it  will  cost  to  remove  a  big  ailantus  tree 
from  New  York  to  the  Berkshires.  You  can  tell 
him  I'll  sue  him  if  he  injures  the  tree,  but  that  I 
don't  care  what  it  costs  to  move  it." 

"Smith!"  faltered  Kerns,  appalled,  "you're 
as  mad  as  Hamlet !  " 

"  It's  one  of  my  ambitions  to  be  madder,"  re 
torted  Smith,  going  out  and  running  nimbly 
downstairs. 

"  Help !  "  observed  Kerns  feebly  as  the  front 
door  slammed.  And,  as  nobody  responded,  he  sat 
down  in  the  bachelor  quarters  of  J.  Abingdon 
Smith,  a  prey  to  melancholy  amazement. 

When  Smith  had  been  gone  a  week  Kerns  wrote 
him,  when  he  had  been  gone  two  weeks  he  tele 
graphed  him,  when  the  third  week  ended  he 
telephoned  him,  and  when  the  month  was  up  he 
prepared  to  leave  for  darkest  Chicago;  in  fact 
he  was  actually  leaving  his  house,  suit  case  in 
hand,  when  Smith  drove  up  in  a  hansom  and  glee 
fully  waved  his  hand. 

Smith  beckoned  him  to  enter  the  cab.  "  I'm 
going  home  to  put  on  my  old  clothes,"  he  said. 
118 


THE    TREE    OF   DREAMS 

"  It's  all  right,  Tom.  I've  been  collecting  old 
furniture,  tons  of  antique  chairs  and  things. 
They  were  pretty  widely  scattered  at  the  sale  two 
years  ago ' 

"What  sale,  in  the  name  of  sanity?"  shouted 
Kerns. 

"  Why,  when  Stanley  Stevens  failed  to  corner 
wheat  he  shot  his  head  off  before  they  pounced  on 
his  effects.  I  managed  to  find  most  of  the  things. 
I've  sent  them  to  my  place,  Abingdon,  and  now  I'm 
going  to  ask  her  to  marry  me." 

"Oh,  are  you?" 

"  Certainly.  And,  Kerns,  if  she  will  have  me 
it  will  be  for  my  own  sake.  Do  you  know  what 
she  thinks?  She  thinks  I'm  a  draughtsman  at 
thirty  dollars  a  week.  Isn't  it  delightful?  Isn't 
it  perfectly  splendid  ?  " 

"  Dazzling,"  whispered  Kerns,  unable  to  utter 
another  word. 

Smith's  progress  was  certainly  rapid.  When  he 
arrived  at  the  door  of  his  tenement  lodgings  he 
fairly  soared  up  the  stairs,  flight  on  flight,  until 
he  came  to  the  top. 

The   door   of  his   neighbor's   room   stood  open 

and  he  impulsively  crossed  the  hallway,  but  there 

were  only  two  men  there  moving  out  a  table,  and 

his  slender  blue-eyed  neighbor  was  nowhere  visible. 

9  119 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

"What's  that  for?"  he  inquired.  "Is  Miss 
Stevens  moving?  " 

"  No,  but  her  table  is,"  said  one  of  the  men. 

Something  about  the  proceeding  kept  Smith 
silent.  He  saw  one  of  the  men  drop  his  end  of  the 
table,  close  the  door,  lock  it,  and  hang  the  key 
on  a  nail  outside. 

"That  isn't  safe,"  said  Smith.  "I'll  take 
charge  of  the  key  until  Miss  Stevens  returns." 

He  unhooked  it,  and,  turning,  let  himself  into 
his  own  room,  but  left  the  door  ajar. 

Two  flights  down  the  table  drawer  dropped  out, 
dumping  a  pile  of  yellow  manuscript  on  the  stairs. 

"  Glory !  "  panted  one  of  the  movers ;  "  that's 
hers.  Take  it  up  and  leave  it  with  the  guy  in  the 
glasses,  Bill." 

And  so  it  happened  that  Smith,  standing  out 
side  on  his  fire  escape  for  a  breath  of  air,  returned 
to  find  a  mass  of  yellow  manuscript  littering  his 
bed. 

Wondering,  he  picked  up  the  first  sheet,  saw  his 
own  name  in  her  handwriting,  stared,  and  sat  down 
in  astonishment  to  read.  Suddenly  his  face  burned 
fiery  red,  and,  as  long  as  he  sat  there,  the  deep 
color  remained  throbbing,  scorching  him  anew  with 
every  page  he  turned. 

After  a  long  while  he  dropped  the  sheets  and 
120 


THE   TREE   OF   DREAMS 

returned  to  the  first  page.  It  was  dated  in  June, 
the  day  after  his  arrival. 

He  was  slowly  beginning  to  understand  the  mat 
ter  now.  He  was  beginning  to  realize  that  this 
manuscript  had  been  placed  in  his  room  by  mis 
take;  that  it  had  never  been  intended  for  him  to 
read ;  that,  if  it  had  been  written  with  a  purpose, 
it  had  never  been  used  for  any  purpose. 

Then  he  remembered  the  moving  of  her  table. 
Clearly  the  men  had  found  it  and,  as  he  had  as 
sumed  possession  of  her  key,  no  doubt  they  had 
returned  and  flung  the  papers  on  his  bed. 

"In  that  case,"  said  Smith  thoughtfully,  "I 
think  I'll  go  down  to  the  ailantus  tree,  and  see 
if,  by  any  chance,  she  is  there." 

She  was  there,  seated  in  a  chair,  very  intent 
on  her  writing  pad.  He  was  quite  near  her  before 
she  noticed  him,  and  then  she  seemed  dazed  for 
a  moment,  rising  and  holding  out  her  hand  me 
chanically,  looking  at  him  in  silence  as  he  held  her 
fingers  imprisoned. 

"  I  did  not  think  you  would  return,"  she  said. 
"  It  is  a  month — at  least — 

"  Are  you  glad  to  see  me  ?  " 

"  Of  course,"  she  said  simply,  reseating  herself. 
"  Have  you  been  well?  " 

121 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

"Yes;  and  you?" 

"  Perfectly,  thank  you." 

He  looked  around  at  the  long  grass  withered 
in  patches ;  at  the  leafless  tree.  "  Do  you  remem 
ber  our  first  encounter  here?"  he  said. 

"  Perfectly.  You  told  me  that  there  was  a 
dragon  under  the  tree,  and  a  Chinese  bird  sat  in 
its  branches.  That  was  in  August,  I  think.  This 
is  November.  Look  up  at  the  branches.  All  the 
leaves  are  gone.  Only  the  silvery  cocoons  are 
hanging  in  clusters  everywhere."  And,  bending 
slowly  above  her  work  again,  "  When  are  you 
going  to  turn  our  Tree  of  Dreams  into  a  tower 
of  bricks?" 

But  he  only  sat  silent,  smiling,  watching  her 
white  fingers  flying  over  the  pad  on  her  knees. 

"  I  wonder,"  she  said  carelessly,  "  how  long  you 
are  going  to  stay  here  this  time." 

"  I  wonder,  too,"  he  said. 

"  Don't  you  know?  "  she  asked,  raising  her  eyes 
and  laughing  faintly. 

"  No,  I  don't.  Besides,  why  should  I  leave  this 
lodging  house?  I  like  it." 

"  Can't  you  afford  to  leave — after  all  that 
lucrative  tower  designing?" 

He    said,    looking   at    her    deliberately :  ."  You 
know  perfectly  well  that  I  can  afford  to." 
122 


THE    TREE   OF   DREAMS 

Something  in  the  quiet  voice  and  gaze  of  the 
man  startled  her,  but  only  a  delicate  glow  of  ris 
ing  color  in  her  cheeks  betrayed  any  lack  of  self- 
possession.  "  I  don't  think  I  understand  you,"  she 
said. 

"  I  think  you  do,"  he  insisted,  seating  himself 
at  her  feet  in  the  grass. 

She  wrote  a  word  or  two  on  her  pad,  then  looked 
down  to  meet  his  changed  smile.  A  moment  more, 
and  she  resumed  her  work  in  flushed  confusion. 

"  You  know  who  I  am,"  he  said  calmly.  "  I 
didn't  think  you  did  until  an  hour  ago.  Shall  I 
tell  you  what  happened  an  hour  ago  ?  " 

She  managed  to  meet  his  gaze  without  expres 
sion,  but  she  did  not  answer. 

"  Then  I  will  tell  you  what  happened,"  he  con 
tinued. 

"  Some  men  carried  out  a  table  from  your  room. 
A  few  moments  later  one  of  the  men  deposited  a 
lot  of  loose  manuscript  which  he  had,  I  suppose, 
found  in  the  table  drawer.  This  all  occurred  while 
I  was  out  on  the  balcony.  When  I  returned  to 
the  room  I  found  the  papers  on  my  bed.  I  could 
not  avoid  seeing  my  own  name  at  the  head  of  this 
breezy  newspaper  article.  It  is  very  cleverly 
written." 

Wave  after  wave  of  scarlet  flooded  her  face. 
123 


THE   TREE   OF  HEAVEN 

"  So  you  have  known  who  I  am  all  this  time?  " 
he  nodded  slowly. 

"  Y-yes." 

"  It  was  a  good  chance — a  legitimate  chance 
for  an  article.  You  thought  so,  and  you  wrote 
it.  The  papers  would  have  given  it  three  columns 
and  double  leads.  .  .  .  Why  didn't  you  use  it?  " 

The  tears  flashed  in  her  eyes.  "  I  did  not  use 
it  for  the  same  reason  that  I  am  here  with  you 
now !  Some  things  can  be  done,  and  some  cannot. 
Good-by." 

Good-by?  "  he  repeated  slowly. 

He  stepped  back ;  she  passed  before  him,  halted, 
turned,  and  spoke  again,  steadying  her  voice  which 
broke  deliciously  in  spite  of  her :  "  I  did  not  mean 
to  ridicule  you.  When  I  wrote  that  article  I  had 
known  you  only  a  day  or  two — and  I  was  desperate 
—  frightened  —  half-starved.  The  chance  came, 
and  I  took  it — or  tried  to.  But  I  couldn't.  I  never 
could  have.  So— that  is  all." 

"T  knew  all  that,  too,"  he  said.  "I  only 
thought  I'd  speak  of  it.  I  wanted  to  ask  you 
something  else " 

She  had  halted. 

"  Ask  it,"  she  said,  exercising  every  atom  of 
self-command. 

"  Won't  you  turn  around?  " 
124 


THE   TREE   OF   DREAMS 

"  No.  I — I  cannot.  What  is  it  you  wish,  Mr. 
Smith?" 

"  Ah — about  this  tree.  It's  to  be  taken  up,  I 
believe.  They've  a  method  of  doing  it,  you  know. 
I — ah — have  considered  arrangements." 

She  made  no  movement. 

"  Fact  is,"  he  ventured,  "  I've  a  sort  of  a  coun 
try  place  in  the  Berkshires.  Do  you  think  that  our 
tree  would  do  well  in  the  Berkshires  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  Mr.  Smith." 

"  Oh,  I  thought,  perhaps,  you'd  be  likely  to 
know!" 

There  was  a  pause  of  a  full  minute.  "  Is  that 
all?  "  she  asked,  turning  toward  him  with  tear- 
flushed  self-possession — but  she  had  no  idea  that  he 
was  so  close  to  her — no  idea  of  what  he  was  doing 
with  her  hands  so  suddenly  imprisoned  in  his. 

"  Can  you  stand  such  a-a  m-man  as  I  am  ?  "  he 
stammered,  the  ancestral  sentimental  streak  in 
the  ascendency.  "  Would  yo — ah — mind  marry 
ing  me?  " 

Her  face  was  pale  enough  now. 

"  Do  you  mean  you  love  me  ?  "  she  said,  dazed. 
And  the  next  moment  she  had  released  her  hands, 
stepping  toward  the  tree. 

"  Yes,  I  mean  that,"  he  repeated ;  "  I  love  you." 

"  But— but  I  do  not  love  you,  Mr.  Smith " 

125 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

"  I — I  know  it.  P-perhaps  you  could  try. 
D-do  you  mind  trying — a  little " 

He  had  followed  her  to  the  ailantus.  She  re 
treated,  facing  him,  and  now  stood  backed  up 
against  the  tree,  her  hands  flat  against  the  trunk 
behind  her. 

"  Couldn't  you  try?  "  he  asked.  "  I  love  you— 
I  love  you  dearly.  I  know  you're  younger — I 
know  you  think  me  m-more  or  less  of  a " 

"I  don't!" 

"  I  suppose  I  really  haven't  many  brains,"  he 
said ;  "  but  yours  are  still  intact." 

Her  blue  eyes  filled  and  grew  starry. 

"  Did  you  read  that  entire  article  ?  "  she  asked 
unsteadily — "  did  you  ?  " 

"  Yes — in  bits — before  I  knew  you  had  not 
meant  me  to.  ...  I  guess  I  am  the  sort  of  a  man 
you  make  fun  of " 

Her  eyes  met  his  fairly  for  a  moment,  were 
lowered,  then  again  raised.  Something  within 
them  gave  him  courage,  or  perhaps  the  splendid 
rising  color  in  her  face,  or  perhaps  the  provoca 
tion  of  her  mouth.  And  he  kissed  her.  She  did 
not  stir ;  her  lips  were  stiffly  unresponsive. 

But  when,  once  more,  he  bent  above  her,   she 
caught  both  his  hands  with  a  sob  and  met  his  lips 
with  heart  and  soul,  closing  her  wet  eyes. 
126 


THE    TREE    OF   DREAMS 

"  D-darling,"  said  J.  Abingdon  Smith,  bending 
his  head  over  hers  where  it  lay  buried  in  his 
shoulder,  "  I  don't  mind  being  an  ass — really  I 
don't " 

Her  hands  crushed  his,  signaling  silence. 

"  It  isn't  the  funny  things  you  wrote  about  me," 
he  persisted ;  "  but  I  really  am  that  sort  of  a  man. 
And  likely  to  continue.  You  don't  care,  do  you, 
dear?" 

"  W-when  I  love  you ! "  she  sobbed ;  "  how  can 
you  say  such  things !  D-do  you  think  I'd  love  an 
idiot?" 

He  was  discreetly  silent  for  a  while,  then : 
"  Anyway,  I've  found  all  your  furniture — the 
bandy-legged  chairs  and  things,"  he  whispered 
cheerfully.  "  They  are  waiting  for  you  at — a — 
Abingdon — a  place  I  have  in  the  country.  Are 
you  pleased  ?  " 

She  lifted  her  face  and  made  an  effort  to  speak. 

"  Never  mind,"  he  said,  dizzy  with  happiness, 
"  we'll  talk  it  over  to-morrow.  I  think,"  he 
added,  "  that  I'll  have  the  men  here  to-morrow  to 
remove  our  tree.  There's  a  splendid  place  for  it 
on  the  lawn." 

She  turned,  her  hands  clasped  in  his,  and  looked 
up  at  the  Tree  of  Dreams.    Then,  very  gently,  she 
bent  and  laid  her  lips  against  the  bark. 
127 


CHAPTER    V 

THE    BRIDAL    PAIR 

"  IF  I  were  you,"  said  the  elder  man,  "  I  should 
take  three  months'  solid  rest." 

"  A  month  is  enough,"  said  the  younger  man. 
"  Ozone  will  do  it ;  the  first  brace  of  grouse  I  bag 
will  do  it — "  He  broke  off  abruptly,  staring  at 
the  line  of  dimly  lighted  cars,  where  negro  por 
ters  stood  by  the  vestibuled  sleepers,  directing 
passengers  to  staterooms  and  berths. 

"Dog  all  right,  doctor?"  inquired  the  elder 
man  pleasantly. 

"  All  right,  doctor,"  replied  the  younger ;  "  I 
spoke  to  the  baggage  master." 

There  was  a  silence;  the  elder  man  chewed  an 
unlighted  cigar  reflectively,  watching  his  compan 
ion  with  keen  narrowing  eyes. 

The  younger  physician  stood  full  in  the  white 
electric  light,  lean  head  lowered,  apparently  pre 
occupied  with  a  study  of  his  own  shadow  swim 
ming  and  quivering  on  the  asphalt  at  his  feet. 
128 


THE  BRIDAL  PAIR 


"  So  you  fear  I  may  break  down  ?  "  he  observed, 
without  raising  his  head. 

"  I  think  you're  tired  out,"  said  the  other. 

"  That's  a  more  agreeable  way  of  expressing  it," 
said  the  young  fellow.  "  I  hear  "  —  he  hesitated, 
with  a  faint  trace  of  irritation — "  I  understand 
that  Forbes  Stanly  thinks  me  mentally  unsound." 

"  He  probably  suspects  what  you're  up  to," 
said  the  elder  man  soberly. 

"  Well,  what  will  he  do  when  I  announce  my 
germ  theory?  Put  me  in  a  strait- jacket?  " 

"  He'll  say  you're  mad,  until  you  prove  it ; 
every  physician  will  agree  with  him — until  your 
radium  test  shows  us  the  microbe  of  insanity." 

"  Doctor,"  said  the  young  man  abruptly,  "  I'm 
going  to  admit  something — to  you" 

"  All  right ;  go  ahead  and  admit  it." 

"  Well,  I  am  a  bit  worried  about  my  own  con 
dition." 

"  It's  time  you  were,"  observed  the  other. 

"  Yes — it's  about  time.  Doctor,  I  am  seriously 
affected." 

The  elder  man  looked  up  sharply. 

"  Yes,  I'm— in  love." 

"  Ah !  "  muttered  the  elder  physician,  amused 
and  a  trifle  disgusted ;  "  so  that's  your  malady, 
is  it?" 

129 


THE   TREE   OF  HEAVEN 

"  A  malady — yes ;  not  explainable  by  our  germ 
theory — not  affected  by  radio-activity.  Doctor, 
I'm  speaking  lightly  enough,  but  there's  no  hap 
piness  in  it." 

"  Never  is,"  commented  the  other,  striking  a 
match  and  lighting  his  ragged  cigar.  After  a 
puff  or  two  the  cigar  went  out.  "  All  I  have 
to  say,"  he  added,  "  is,  don't  do  it  just  now. 
Show  me  a  scale  of  pure  radium  and  I'll  give 
you  leave  to  marry  every  spinster  in  New  York. 
In  the  mean  time  go  and  shoot  a  few  dozen 
harmless,  happy  grouse ;  they  can't  shoot  back. 
But  let  love  alone.  .  .  .  By  the  way,  who  is 
she?" 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  You  know  her  name,  I  suppose  ?  " 

The  young  fellow  shook  his  head.  "  I  don't 
even  know  where  she  lives,"  he  said  finally. 

After  a  pause  the  elder  man  took  him  gently 
by  the  arm:  "Are  you  subject  to  this  sort  of 
thing?  Are  you  susceptible?" 

"  No,  not  at  all." 

"  Ever  before  in  love?  " 

"  Yes— once." 

"When?" 

"  When  I  was  about  ten  years  old.  Her  name 
was  Rosamund — aged  eight.  I  never  had  the 
130 


THE  BRIDAL  PAIR 


courage  to  speak  to  her.  She  died  recently,  I 
believe." 

The  reply  was  so  quietly  serious,  so  destitute 
of  any  suspicion  of  humor,  that  the  elder  man's 
smile  faded;  and  again  he  cast  one  of  his  swift, 
keen  glances  at  his  companion. 

"  Won't  you  stay  away  three  months  ? "  he 
asked  patiently. 

But  the  other  only  shook  his  head,  tracing  with 
the  point  of  his  walking  stick  the  outline  of  his 
own  shadow  on  the  asphalt. 

A  moment  later  he  glanced  at  his  watch,  closed 
it  with  a  snap,  silently  shook  hands  with  his 
equally  silent  friend,  and  stepped  aboard  the 
sleeping  car. 

Neither  had  noticed  the  name  of  the  sleeping 
car. 

It  happened  to  be  the  Rosamund. 

Loungers  and  passengers  on  Wildwood  station 
drew  back  from  the  platform's  edge  as  the  tower 
ing  locomotive  shot  by  them,  stunning  their  ears 
with  the  clangor  of  its  melancholy  bell. 

Slower,  slower  glided  the  dusty  train,  then 
stopped,  jolting;  eddying  circles  of  humanity 
closed  around  the  cars,  through  which  descending 
passengers  pushed. 

131 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

"  Wildwood !  Wildwood !  "  cried  the  trainmen ; 
trunks  tumbling  out  of  the  forward  car  de 
scended  with  a  bang ! — a  yelping,  wagging  set 
ter  dog  landed  on  the  platform,  hysterically 
grateful  to  be  free;  and  at  the  same  moment  a 
young  fellow  in  tweed  shooting  clothes,  carrying 
gripsack  and  gun  case,  made  his  way  forward 
toward  the  baggage  master,  who  was  being 
jerked  all  over  the  platform  by  the  frantic 
dog. 

"Much  obliged;  I'll  take  the  dog,"  he  said, 
slipping  a  bit  of  silver  into  the  official's  hand,  and 
receiving  the  dog's  chain  in  return. 

"  Hope  you'll  have  good  sport,"  replied  the 
baggage  master.  "  There's  a  lot  o'  birds  in  this 
country,  they  tell  me.  You've  got  a  good  dog 
there." 

The  young  man  smiled  and  nodded,  released  the 
chain  from  his  dog's  collar,  and  started  off  up 
the  dusty  village  street,  followed  by  an  urchin 
carrying  his  luggage. 

The  landlord  of  the  Wildwood  Inn  stood  on  the 
veranda,  prepared  to  receive  guests.  When  a 
young  man,  a  white  setter  dog,  and  a  small  boy 
loomed  up,  his  speculative  eyes  became  suffused 
with  benevolence. 

"  How-de-do,  sir  ?  "  he  said  cordially.  "  Guess 
132 


THE  BRIDAL  PAIR 


you  was  with  us  three  year  since — stayed  to  sup 
per.  Ain't  that  so  ?  " 

"  It  certainly  is,"  said  his  guest  cheerfully. 
"  I  am  surprised  that  you  remember  me." 

"  Be  ye? "  rejoined  the  landlord,  gratified. 
"  Say !  I  can  tell  the  name  of  every  man,  woman, 
an'  child  that  has  ever  set  down  to  eat  with  us. 
You  was  here  with  a  pair  o'  red  bird  dawgs ;  shot 
a  mess  o'  birds  before  dark,  come  back  pegged 
out,  an'  took  the  ten-thirty  to  Noo  York.  Hey? 
Yaas,  an'  you  was  cussin'  round  because  you 
couldn't  stay  an'  shoot  for  a  month." 

"  I  had  to  work  hard  in  those  days,"  laughed 
the  young  man.  "  You  are  right ;  it  was  three 
years  ago  this  month." 

"  Time's  a  flyer ;  it's  fitted  with  triple  screws 
these  days,"  said  the  landlord.  "  Come  right  in 
an'  make  yourself  to  home.  Ed!  O  Ed!  Take 
this  bag  to  13!  We're  all  full,  sir.  You  ain't 
scared  at  No.  13,  be  ye?  Say!  if  I  ain't  a  liar 
you  had  13  three  years  ago!  Waal,  now! — ain't 
that  the  dumbdest —  But  you  can  have  what  you 
want  Monday.  How  long  was  you  calkerlatin'  to 
stay?" 

"  A  month — if  the  shooting  is  good." 

"  It's  all  right.  Orrin  Plummer  come  in  last 
night  with  a  mess  o'  pa' t ridges.  He  says  the 
133 


THE   TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

woodcock  is  droppin'  in  to  the  birches  south  o' 
Sweetbrier  Hill." 

The  young  man  nodded,  and  began  to  remove 
his  gun  from  the  service-worn  case  of  sole  leather. 

"  Ain't  startin'  right  off,  be  ye?  "  inquired  his 
host,  laughing. 

"  I  can't  begin  too  quickly,"  said  the  young 
man,  busy  locking  barrels  to  stock,  while  the  dog 
looked  on,  thumping  the  veranda  floor  with  his 
plumy  tail. 

The  landlord  admired  the  slim,  polished  weapon. 
"  That's  the  instrooment !  "  he  observed.  "  That 
there's  a  slick  bird  dawg,  too.  Guess  I'd  better  fill 
my  ice  box.  Your  limit's  thirty  of  each — cock 
an'  pa'tridge.  After  that  there's  ducks." 

"  It's  a  good,  sane  law,"  said  the  young  man, 
dropping  his  gun  under  one  arm. 

The  landlord  scratched  his  ear  reflectively. 
"  Lemme  see,"  he  mused;  "wasn't  you  a  doctor? 
I  heard  tell  that  you  made  up  pieces  for  the  pa 
pers  about  the  idjits  an'  loony  ticks  of  Rome  an' 
Roosia  an'  furrin  climes." 

"  I  have  written  a  little  on  European  and  Asi 
atic  insanity,"  replied  the  doctor  good-humoredly. 

"  Was  you  over  to  them  parts  ?  " 

"  For  three  years."  He  whistled  the  dog  in 
from  the  road,  where  several  yellow  curs  were 
134 


THE  BRIDAL  PAIR 


walking    round    and    round    him,    every    hair    on 
end. 

The  landlord  said :  "  You  look  a  little  peaked 
yourself.  Take  it  easy  the  fust,  is  my  advice." 

His  guest  nodded  abstractedly,  lingering  on  the 
veranda,  preoccupied  with  the  beauty  of  the  vil 
lage  street,  which  stretched  away  westward  under 
tall  elms.  Autumn- tin  ted  hills  closed  the  vista; 
beyond  them  spread  the  blue  sky. 

"  The  cemetery  lies  that  way,  does  it  not  ?  " 
inquired  the  young  man. 

"  Straight  ahead,"  said  the  landlord.  "  Take 
the  road  to  the  Holler." 

"  Do  you  " — the  doctor  hesitated — "  do  you  re 
call  a  funeral  there  three  years  ago  ?  " 

"  Whose  ?  "  asked  his  host  bluntly. 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  I'll  ask  my  woman ;  she  saves  them  funeral 
pieces  an'  makes  a  album.  .  .  .  Friend  o'  yours 
buried  there?  " 

"  No." 

The  landlord  sauntered  toward  the  barroom, 
where  two  fellow  taxpayers  stood  shuffling  their 
feet  impatiently. 

"  Waal,  good  luck,  Doc,"  he  said,  without  in 
tentional  offense ;  "  supper's  at  six.  We'll  try  an' 
make  you  comfortable." 

10  135 


THE   TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

"  Thank  you,"  replied  the  doctor,  stepping  out 
into  the  road,  and  motioning  the  white  setter  to  heel. 

"  I  remember  now,"  he  muttered,  as  he  turned 
northward,  where  the  road  forked ;  "  the  cemetery 
lies  to  the  westward ;  there  should  be  a  lane  at  the 
next  turning " 

He  hesitated  and  stopped,  then  resumed  his 
course,  mumbling  to  himself :  "  I  can  pass  the 
cemetery  later;  she  would  not  be  there;  I  don't 
think  I  shall  ever  see  her  again.  .  .  .  I — I  won 
der  whether  I  am — perfectly — well " 

The  words  were  suddenly  lost  in  a  sharp  in 
drawn  breath;  his  heart  ceased  beating,  fluttered, 
then  throbbed  on  violently;  and  he  shook  from 
head  to  foot. 

There  was  a  glimmer  of  a  summer  gown  under 
the  trees;  a  figure  passed  from  shadow  to  sun 
shine,  and  again  into  the  cool  dusk  of  a  leafy  lane. 

The  pallor  of  the  young  fellow's  face  changed ; 
a  heavy  flush  spread  from  forehead  to  neck;  he 
strode  forward,  dazed,  deafened  by  the  tumult  of 
his  drumming  pulses.  The  dog,  alert,  suspicious, 
led  the  way,  wheeling  into  the  bramble-bordered 
lane,  only  to  halt,  turn  back,  and  fall  in  behind 
his  master  again. 

In  the  lane  ahead  the  light  summer  gown  flut 
tered  under  the  foliage,  bright  in  the  sunlight, 
136 


THE  BRIDAL  PAIR 


almost  lost  in  the  shadows.  Then  he  saw  her 
on  the  hill's  breezy  crest,  poised  for  a  moment 
against  the  sky. 

When  at  length  he  reached  the  hill,  he  found 
her  seated  in  the  shade  of  a  pine.  She  looked  up 
serenely,  as  though  she  had  expected  him,  and 
they  faced  each  other.  A  moment  later  his  dog 
left  him,  sneaking  away  without  a  sound. 

When  he  strove  to  speak,  his  voice  had  an  un 
known  tone  to  him.  Her  upturned  face  was  his 
only  answer.  The  breeze  in  the  pinetops,  which 
had  been  stirring  lazily  and  monotonously,  ceased. 

Her  delicate  face  was  like  a  blossom  lifted  in 
the  still  air;  her  upward  glance  chained  him  to 
silence.  The  first  breeze  broke  the  spell :  he  spoke 
a  word,  then  speech  died  on  his  lips;  he  stood 
twisting  his  shooting  cap,  confused,  not  daring 
to  continue. 

The  girl  leaned  back,  supporting  her  weight  on 
one  arm,  fingers  almost  buried  in  the  deep  green 
moss. 

"  It  is  three  years  to-day,"  he  said,  in  the  dull 
voice  of  one  who  dreams ;  "  three  years  to-day. 
May  I  not  speak?  " 

In  her  lowered  head  and  eyes  he  read  acquies 
cence;  in  her  silence,  consent. 
137 


THE   TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

"  Three  years  ago  to-day,"  he  repeated ;  "  the 
anniversary  has  given  me  courage  to  speak  to  you. 
Surely  you  will  not  take  offense;  we  have  trav 
eled  so  far  together ! — from  the  end  of  the  world 
to  the  end  of  it,  and  back  again,  here — to  this 
place  of  all  places  in  the  world !  And  now  to  find 
you  here  on  this  day  of  all  days — here  within  a 
step  of  our  first  meeting  place — three  years  ago 
to-day !  And  all  the  world  we  have  traveled  over 
since,  never  speaking,  yet  ever  passing  on  paths 
parallel — paths  which  for  thousands  of  miles  ran 
almost  within  arm's  distance " 

She  raised  her  head  slowly,  looking  out  from 
the  shadows  of  the  pines  into  the  sunshine.  Her 
dreamy  eyes  rested  on  acres  of  golden-rod  and 
hillside  brambles  quivering  in  the  September  heat ; 
on  fern-choked  gullies  edged  with  alder ;  on  brown 
and  purple  grasses ;  on  pine  thickets  where  slim 
silver  birches  glimmered. 

"  Will  you  speak  to  me?  "  he  asked.  "  I  have 
never  even  heard  the  sound  of  your  voice." 

She  turned  and  looked  at  him,  touching  with 
idle  fingers  the  soft  hair  curling  on  her  temples. 
Then  she  bent  her  head  once  more,  the  faintest 
shadow  of  a  smile  in  her  eyes. 

"  Because,"  he  said  humbly,  "  these  long  years 
of  silent  recognition  count  for  something!  And 
138 


THE  BRIDAL  PAIR 


then  the  strangeness  of  it! — the  fate  of  it — the 
quiet  destiny  that  ruled  our  lives — that  rules  them 
now — now  as  I  am  speaking,  weighting  every  sec 
ond  with  its  tiny  burden  of  fate." 

She  straightened  up,  lifting  her  half-buried 
hand  from  the  moss ;  and  he  saw  the  imprint  there 
where  the  palm  and  fingers  had  rested. 

"  Three  years  that  end  to-day — end  with  the 
new  moon,"  he  said.  "  Do  you  remember?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  said. 

He  quivered  at  the  sound  of  her  voice.  "  You 
were  there,  just  beyond  those  oaks,"  he  said 
eagerly ;  "  we  can  see  them  from  here.  The  road 
turns  there " 

"  Turns  by  the  cemetery,"  she  murmured. 

"  Yes,  yes,  by  the  cemetery !  You  had  been 
there,  I  think." 

"  Do  you  remember  that  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  have  never  forgotten — never !  "  he  repeated, 
striving  to  hold  her  eyes  to  his  own ;  "  it  was  not 
twilight ;  there  was  a  glimmer  of  day  in  the  west, 
but  the  woods  were  darkening,  and  the  new  moon 
lay  in  the  sky,  and  the  evening  was  very  clear 
and  still." 

Impulsively  he  dropped  on  one  knee  beside  her 
to  see  her  face ;  and  as  he  spoke,  curbing  his  emo 
tion  and  impatience  with  tha  subtle  deference 
139 


THE   TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

which  is  inbred  in  men  or  never  acquired,  she  stole 
a  glance  at  him ;  and  his  worn  visage  brightened 
as  though  touched  with  sunlight. 

"  The  second  time  I  saw  you  was  in  New  York," 
he  said — "  only  a  glimpse  of  your  face  in  the 
crowd — but  I  knew  you." 

"  I  saw  you,"  she  mused. 

"  Did  you  ?  "  he  cried,  enchanted.  "  I  dared 
not  believe  that  you  recognized  me." 

"  Yes,  I  knew  you.  .  .  .  Tell  me  more." 

The  thrilling  voice  set  him  aflame ;  faint  danger 
signals  tinted  her  face  and  neck. 

"  In  December,"  he  went  on  unsteadily,  "  I  saw 
you  in  Paris — I  saw  only  you  amid  the  thousand 
faces  in  the  candlelight  of  Notre  Dame." 

"  And  I  saw  you.  .  .  .  And  then  ?  " 

"  And  then  two  months  of  darkness.  .  .  .  And 
at  last  a  light — moonlight — and  you  on  the  ter 
race  at  Amara." 

"  There  was  only  a  flower  bed — a  few  spikes  of 
white  hyacinths  between  us,"  she  said  dreamily. 

He  strove  to  speak  coolly.  "  Day  and  night 
have  built  many  a  wall  between  us;  was  that  you 
who  passed  me  in  the  starlight,  so  close  that  our 
shoulders  touched,  in  that  narrow  street  in  Samar- 
cand?  And  the  dark  figure  with  you " 

"  Yes,  it  was  I  and  my  attendant." 
140 


THE  BRIDAL  PAIR 


44  And  .  .  .  you,  there  in  the  fog " 

"  At  Archangel?     Yes,  it  was  I." 
"On  theGoryn?" 

"  It  was  I.  ...  And  I  am  here  at  last — with 
you.  It  is  our  destiny." 

So,  kneeling  there  beside  her  in  the  shadow  of 
the  pines,  she  absolved  him  in  their  dim  confes 
sional,  holding  him  guiltless  under  the  destiny  that 
awaits  us  all. 

Again  that  illumination  touched  his  haggard 
face  as  though  brightened  by  a  sun  ray  stealing 
through  the  still  foliage  above.  He  grew  younger 
under  the  level  beauty  of  her  gaze ;  care  fell  from 
him  like  a  mask;  the  shadows  that  had  haunted 
his  eyes  faded;  youth  awoke,  transfiguring  him 
and  all  his  eyes  beheld. 

Made  prisoner  by  love,  adoring  her,  fearing 
her,  he  knelt  beside  her,  knowing  already  that  she 
had  surrendered,  though  fearful  yet  by  word  or 
gesture  or  a  glance  to  claim  what  destiny  was 
holding  for  him — holding  securely,  inexorably,  for 
him  alone. 

He  spoke  of  her  kindness  in  understanding  him, 
and  of  his  gratitude;  of  her  generosity,  of  his 
wonder  that  she  had  ever  noticed  him  on  his  way 
through  the  world. 

141 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

"  I  cannot  believe  that  we  have  never  before 
spoken  to  each  other,"  he  said ;  "  that  I  do  not 
even  know  your  name.  Surely  there  was  once  a 
corner  in  the  land  of  childhood  where  we  sat  to 
gether  when  the  world  was  younger." 

She  said,  dreamily :  "  Have  you  forgotten  ?  " 

"Forgotten?" 

"  That  sunny  corner  in  the  land  of  child 
hood." 

"  Had  you  been  there,  I  should  not  have  for 
gotten,"  he  replied,  troubled. 

"  Look  at  me,"  she  said.  Her  lovely  eyes  met 
his;  under  the  penetrating  sweetness  of  her  gaze 
his  heart  quickened  and  grew  restless  and  his  un 
easy  soul  stirred,  awaking  memories. 

"  There  was  a  child,"  she  said,  "  years  ago ;  a 
child  at  school.  You  sometimes  looked  at  her; 
you  never  spoke.  Do  you  remember?  " 

He  rose  to  his  feet,  staring  down  at  her. 

"  Do  you  remember?  "  she  asked  again. 

"Rosamund!  Do  you  mean  Rosamund?  How 
should  you  know  that?  "  he  faltered. 

The  struggle  for  memory  focused  all  his  grop 
ing  senses ;  his  eyes  seemed  to  look  her  through 
and  through. 

"  How  can  you  know?  "  he  repeated  unsteadily. 
"You  are  not  Rosamund.  .  .  .  Are  you?  .  .  . 
142 


THE  BRIDAL  PAIR 


She  is  dead.  I  heard  that  she  was  dead.  .  .  .  Are 
you  Rosamund?  " 

"  Do  you  not  know?  " 

"  Yes ;  you  are  not  Rosamund.  .  .  .  What  do 
you  know  of  her  ?  " 

"  I  think  she  loved  you." 

"Is  she  dead?" 

The  girl  looked  up  at  him,  smiling,  following 
with  delicate  perception  the  sequence  of  his 
thoughts ;  and  already  his  thoughts  were  far  from 
the  child  Rosamund,  a  sweetheart  of  a  day  long 
since  immortal ;  already  he  had  forgotten  his  ques 
tion,  though  the  question  was  of  life  or  death. 

Sadness  and  unrest  and  the  passing  of  souls 
concerned  not  him ;  she  knew  that  all  his  thoughts 
were  centered  on  her;  that  he  was  already  living 
over  once  more  the  last  three  years,  with  all 
their  mystery  and  charm,  savoring  their  fra 
grance  anew  in  the  exquisite  enchantment  of  her 
presence. 

Through  the  autumn  silence  the  pines  began  to 
sway  in  a  wind  unfelt  below.  She  raised  her  eyes 
and  saw  their  green  crests  shimmering  and  swim 
ming  in  a  cool  current ;  a  thrilling  sound  stole  out, 
and  with  it  floated  the  pine  perfume,  exhaling  in 
the  sunshine.  He  heard  the  dreamy  harmony 
above,  looked  up;  then,  troubled,  somber,  moved 
143 


THE    TREE   OF  HEAVEN 

by  he  knew  not  what,  he  knelt  once  more  in  the 
shadow  beside  her — close  beside  her. 

She  did  not  stir.  Their  destiny  was  close  upon 
them.  It  came  in  the  guise  of  love. 

He  bent  nearer.  "  I  love  you,"  he  said.  "  I 
loved  you  from  the  first.  And  shall  forever. 
You  knew  it  long  ago." 

She  did  not  move. 

"  You  knew  I  loved  you?  " 

"  Yes,  I  knew  it." 

The  emotion  in  her  voice,  in  every  delicate  con 
tour  of  her  face,  pleaded  for  mercy.  He  gave 
her  none,  and  she  bent  her  head  in  silence,  clasped 
hands  tightening. 

And  when  at  last  he  had  had  his  say,  the  burn 
ing  words  still  rang  in  her  ears  through  the 
silence.  A  curious  faintness  stole  upon  her,  com 
ing  stealthily  like  a  hateful  thing.  She  strove  to 
put  it  from  her,  to  listen,  to  remember  and  under 
stand  the  words  he  had  spoken,  but  the  dull  con 
fusion  grew  with  the  sound  of  the  pines. 

"  Will  you  love  me?  Will  you  try  to  love 
me?" 

"  I  love  you,"  she  said ;  "  I  have  loved  you  so 
many,  many  years ;  I — I  am  Rosamund " 

She  bowed  her  head  and  covered  her  face  with 
both  hands. 


THE  BRIDAL  PAIR 


"  Rosamund !  Rosamund !  "  he  breathed,  enrap 
tured. 

She  dropped  her  hands  with  a  little  cry;  the 
frightened  sweetness  of  her  eyes  held  back  his  out 
stretched  arms.  "  Do  not  touch  me,"  she  whis 
pered  ;  "  you  will  not  touch  me,  will  you  ? — not 
yet — not  now.  Wait  till  I  understand !  "  She 
pressed  her  hands  to  her  eyes,  then  again  let  them 
fall,  staring  straight  at  him.  "  I  loved  you  so !  " 
she  whispered.  "  Why  did  you  wait  ?  " 

"  Rosamund !  Rosamund !  "  he  cried  sorrow 
fully,  "what  are  you  saying?  I  do  not  under 
stand;  I  can  understand  nothing  save  that  I  wor 
ship  you.  May  I  not  touch  you? — touch  your 
hand,  Rosamund?  I  love  you  so." 

"  And  I  love  you.  I  beg  you  not  to  touch 
me — not  yet.  There  is  something — some  reason 
why » 

"  Tell  me,  sweetheart." 

"  Do  you  not  know?  " 

"  By  Heaven,  I  do  not ! "  he  said,  troubled  and 
amazed. 

She  cast  one  desperate,  unhappy  glance  at  him, 
then  rose  to  her  full  height,  gazing  out  over  the 
hazy  valleys  to  where  the  mountains  began,  piled 
up  like  dim  sun-tipped  clouds  in  the  north. 

The  hill  wind  stirred  her  hair  and  fluttered  the 
145 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

white  ribbons  at  waist  and  shoulder.  The  golden- 
rod  swayed  in  the  sunshine.  Below,  amid  yellow 
treetops,  the  roofs  and  chimneys  of  the  village 
glimmered. 

"Dear,  do  you  not  understand?"  she  said. 
"  How  can  I  make  you  understand  that  I  love 
you — too  late?  " 

"  Give  yourself  to  me,  Rosamund ;  let  me  touch 
you — let  me  take  you " 

"  Will  you  love  me  always  ?  " 

"  In  life,  in  death,  which  cannot  part  us.  Will 
you  marry  me,  Rosamund?  " 

She  looked  straight  into  his  eyes.  "  Dear,  do 
you  not  understand?  Have  you  forgotten?  I 
died  three  years  ago  to-day." 

The  unearthly  sweetness  of  her  white  face 
startled  him.  A  terrible  light  broke  in  on  him; 
his  heart  stood  still. 

In  his  dull  brain  words  were  sounding — his  own 
words,  written  years  ago :  "  When  God  takes  the 
mind  and  leaves  the  body  alive,  there  grows  in  it, 
sometimes,  a  beauty  almost  supernatural." 

He  had  seen  it  in  his  practice.  A  thrill  of 
fright  penetrated  him,  piercing  every  vein  with 
its  chill.  He  strove  to  speak;  his  lips  seemed 
frozen ;  he  stood  there  before  her,  a  ghastly  smile 
stamped  on  his  face,  and  in  his  heart,  terror. 
146 


THE  BRIDAL  PAIR 


"What  do  you  mean,  Rosamund?"  he  said  at 
last. 

"  That  I  am  dead,  dear.  Did  you  not  under 
stand  that?  I — I  thought  you  knew  it — when 
you  first  saw  me  at  the  cemetery,  after  all  those 
years  since  childhood.  .  .  .  Did  you  not  know 
it  ?  "  she  asked  wistfully.  "  I  must  wait  for  my 
bridal." 

Misery  whitened  his  face  as  he  raised  his  head 
and  looked  out  across  the  sunlit  world.  Some 
thing  had  smeared  and  marred  the  fair  earth ;  the 
sun  grew  gray  as  he  stared. 

Stupefied  by  the  crash,  the  ruins  of  life  around 
him,  he  stood  mute,  erect,  facing  the  west. 

She  whispered,  "Do  you  understand?" 

"  Yes,"  he  said ;  "  we  will  wed  later.  You  have 
been  ill,  dear;  but  it  is  all  right  now — and  will 
always  be — God  help  us!  Love  is  stronger  than 
all — stronger  than  death." 

"  I  know  it  is  stronger  than  death,"  she  said, 
looking  out  dreamily  over  the  misty  valley. 

He  followed  her  gaze,  calmly,  serenely  review 
ing  all  that  he  must  renounce,  the  happiness  of 
wedlock,  children — all  that  a  man  desires. 

Suddenly  instinct  stirred,  awaking  man's  only 
friend — hope.  A  lifetime  for  the  battle! — for  a 
cure!  Hopeless?  He  laughed  in  his  excitement. 
147 


THE   TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

Despair? — when  the  cure  lay  almost  within  his 
grasp ! — the  work  he  had  given  his  life  to !  A 
month  more  in  the  laboratory — two  months — 
three — perhaps  a  year.  What  of  it?  It  must 
surely  come — how  could  he  fail  when  the  work  of 
his  life  meant  all  in  life  for  her? 

The  light  of  exaltation  slowly  faded  from  his 
face ;  ominous,  foreboding  thoughts  crept  in ;  fear 
laid  a  shaky  hand  on  his  head  which  fell  heavily 
forward  on  his  breast. 

Science  and  man's  cunning  and  the  wisdom  of 
the  world! 

"  O  God,"  he  groaned,  "  for  Him  who  cured  by 
laying  on  His  hands !  " 

Now  that  he  had  learned  her  name,  and  that 
her  father  was  alive,  he  stood  mutely  beside  her, 
staring  steadily  at  the  chimneys  and  stately  dor- 
mered  roof  almost  hidden  behind  the  crimson 
maple  foliage  across  the  valley — her  home. 

She  had  seated  herself  once  more  upon  the  moss, 
hands  clasped  upon  one  knee,  looking  out  into  the 
west  with  dreamy  eyes. 

"  I  shall  not  be  long,"  he  said  gently.  "  Will 
you  wait  here  for  me?  I  will  bring  your  father 
with  me." 

"  I  will  wait  for  you.  But  you  must  come  be- 
148 


THE  BRIDAL  PAIR 


fore  the  new  moon.  Will  you?  I  must  go  when 
the  new  moon  lies  in  the  west." 

"Go,  dearest?    Where?" 

"  I  may  not  tell  you,"  she  sighed,  "  but  you 
will  know  very  soon — very  soon  now.  And  there 
will  be  no  more  sorrow,  I  think,"  she  added 
timidly. 

"  There  will  be  no  more  sorrow,"  he  repeated 
quietly. 

"  For  the  former  things  are  passing  away,"  she 
said. 

He  broke  a  heavy  spray  of  golden-rod  and 
laid  it  across  her  knees;  she  held  out  a  blossom 
to  him — a  blind  gentian,  blue  as  her  eyes.  He 
kissed  it. 

"  Be  with  me  when  the  new  moon  comes,"  she 
whispered.  "  It  will  be  so  sweet.  I  will  teach 
you  how  divine  is  death,  if  you  will  come." 

"  You  shall  teach  me  the  sweetness  of  life,"  he 
said  tremulously. 

"  Yes — life.  I  did  not  know  you  called  it  by 
its  truest  name." 

So  he  went  away,  trudging  sturdily  down  the 
lane,  gun  glistening  on  his  shoulder. 

Where  the  lane  joins  the  shadowy  village 
street  his  dog  skulked  up  to  him,  sniffing  at  his 
heels. 

149 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

A  mill  whistle  was  sounding;  through  the  red 
rays  of  the  setting  sun  people  were  passing. 
Along  the  row  of  village  shops  loungers  followed 
him  with  vacant  eyes.  He  saw  nothing,  heard 
nothing,  though  a  kindly  voice  called  after  him, 
and  a  young  girl  smiled  at  him  on  her  short  jour 
ney  through  the  world. 

The  landlord  of  the  Wildwood  Inn  sat  sunning 
himself  in  the  red  evening  glow. 

"  Well,  doctor,"  he  said,  "  you  look  tired  to 
death.  Eh?  What's  that  you  say?  " 

The  young  man  repeated  his  question  in  a  low 
voice.  The  landlord  shook  his  head. 

"  No,  sir.  The  big  house  on  the  hill  is  empty — 
been  empty  these  three  years.  No,  sir,  there  ain't 
no  family  there  now.  The  old  gentleman  moved 
away  three  years  ago." 

"  You  are  mistaken,"  said  the  doctor ;  "  his 
daughter  tells  me  he  lives  there." 

"His — his  daughter?"  repeated  the  landlord. 
"  Why,  doctor,  she's  dead."  He  turned  to  his 
wife,  who  sat  sewing  by  the  open  window :  "  Ain't 
it  three  years,  Marthy  ?  " 

"  Three  years  to-day,"  said  the  woman,  biting 
off  her  thread.  "  She's  buried  in  the  family  vault 
over  the  hill.  She  was  a  right  pretty  little  thing, 
too." 

150 


THE   BRIDAL   PAIR 


"  Turned  nineteen,"  mused  the  landlord,  fold 
ing  his  newspaper  reflectively. 

The  great  gray  house  on  the  hill  was  closed, 
windows  and  doors  boarded  over,  lawn,  shrubbery, 
and  hedges  tangled  with  weeds.  A  few  scarlet 
poppies  glimmered  above  the  brown  grass.  Save 
for  these,  and  clumps  of  tall  wild  phlox,  there  were 
no  blossoms  among  the  weeds. 

His  dog,  which  had  sneaked  after  him,  cowered 
as  he  turned  northward  across  the  fields.  Swifter 
and  swifter  he  strode ;  and  as  he  stumbled  on,  the 
long  sunset  clouds  faded,  the  golden  light  in  the 
west  died  out,  leaving  a  calm,  clear  sky  tinged 
with  faintest  green. 

Pines  hid  the  west  as  he  crept  toward  the  hill 
where  she  awaited  him.  As  he  climbed  through 
dusky  purple  grasses,  higher,  higher,  he  saw  the 
new  moon's  crescent  tipping  above  the  hills ;  and 
he  crushed  back  the  deathly  fright  that  clutched 
at  him  and  staggered  on. 

"Rosamund!" 

The  pines  answered  him. 

"  Rosamund ! " 

The  pines  replied,  answering  together.  Then 
the  wind  died  away,  and  there  was  no  answer  when 
he  called. 

11  151 


THE   TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

East  and  south  the  darkening  thickets,  sway 
ing,  grew  still.  He  saw  the  slim  silver  birches 
glimmering  like  the  ghosts  of  young  trees  dead; 
he  saw  on  the  moss  at  his  feet  a  broken  stalk  of 
golden-rod. 

The  new  moon  had  drawn  a  veil  across  her  face ; 
sky  and  earth  were  very  still. 

While  the  moon  lasted  he  lay,  eyes  open,  listen 
ing,  his  face  pillowed  on  the  moss.  It  was  long 
after  sunrise  when  his  dog  came  to  him ;  later  still 
when  men  came. 

And  at  first  they  thought  he  was  asleep. 


152 


CHAPTER    VI 

EX    CURIA 

AND  now,  at  his  attorney's  request,  and  before 
his  report  was  made,  they  decided  to  run  through 
the  documents  in  the  case  once  more,  reviewing 
everything  from  the  very  beginning.  So  young 
Courtlandt,  his  attorney,  lighted  a  cigar  and  un 
wrapped  the  pink  tape  from  the  bundle  of  papers. 

There  was  enough  daylight  left  to  read  by,  for 
wall  and  ceiling  still  bore  the  faded  imprint  of 
the  red  winter  sunset.  Edgerton  sat  before  the 
fire,  his  well-shaped  head  buried  in  his  hands ; 
Courtlandt,  lounging  on  a  sofa  by  the  window, 
unfolded  the  first  paper,  puffed  thoughtfully  at 
his  cigar,  and  presently  began  to  read  without  in 
flection  or  apparent  interest: 

PARIS,  December  24,  1902. 
JOHN  EDGERTON,  Esq. 

Sir :  My  client,  Michael  Innis,  is  seriously  ill,  and  I 
am  writing  you  on  his  behalf  and  at  his  urgent  so 
licitation. 

It  would  appear  that,  during  the  panic  of  1884,  my 

153 


THE    TREE    OF   HEAVEN 

client  came  to  your  father's  assistance,  at  a  time  when 
your  father's  financial  ruin,  involving  also,  I  believe, 
the  ruin  of  many  of  his  friends,  was  apparently  only  a 
question  of  hours. 

It  would  also  appear  that,  upon  your  father's  death, 
you  wrote  Mr.  Innis,  voluntarily  assuming  your  father's 
unpaid  obligations.  (Copy  of  your  letter  herewith  in 
closed.) 

It  further  appears  that  Mr.  Innis,  accepting  the  as 
surance  of  your  personal  gratitude,  generously  offered 
to  wait  for  the  sums  due  him,  permitting  you  to  pay  at 
your  own  convenience.  (Copy  of  Mr.  Innis's  letter  in 
closed  herewith.) 

In  the  conclusion  of  this  last  letter  (No.  2  on  file)  Mr. 
Innis  mentions  his  lifelong  respect  for  your  father  and 
his  family,  humorously  drawing  the  social  distinction 
between  the  late  Winthrop  Edgerton,  Esq.,  and  Michael 
Innis,  the  Tammany  contractor;  and  rather  wistfully 
contrasting  the  future  prospects  of  Mr.  Edgerton's  son, 
yourself,  and  the  chances  of  the  child  of  Michael  Innis. 

To  this  letter  you  replied  (copy  herewith),  repeating 
in  a  manly  fashion  your  assurance  of  gratitude,  holding 
yourself  at  the  service  of  Mr.  Innis. 

Now,  sir,  if  your  assurances  meant  more  than  mere 
civility,  you  have  an  opportunity  to  erase  the  deep  ob 
ligations  that  your  father  assumed. 

Mr.  Innis  is  a  man  broken  in  mind  and  body.  His 
fortune  was  invested,  against  my  advice,  in  Madagascar 
Railways.  To-day  he  could  not  realize  a  thousand  dol 
lars  from  the  investment. 

For  twenty  years  his  one  absorbing  passion  has  been 

154 


EX   CURIA 


the  education  and  fitting  of  his  only  child  for  a  position 
in  the  world  which  he  himself  could  never  hope  to  at 
tain.  Wealth  and  education,  linked  with  an  agreeable 
personality,  may  go  anywhere  in  this  century.  And 
his  daughter  has  had  the  best  that  Europe  can  afford. 

Within  a  month  all  is  changed.  Sir,  it  is  sad  to  see 
the  stricken  man  lying  here,  watching  his  daughter. 

And  now,  knowing  that  impending  dissolution  is 
near,  terror  of  the  future  for  her  has  wrung  an  appeal 
from  him  to  you — a  strange  appeal,  Mr.  Edgerton. 
Money  alone  is  little  ;  he  asks  more  ;  he  asks  your  pro 
tection  for  her — not  the  perfunctory  protection  of  a 
guardian  for  a  ward,  but  the  guidance  of  a  father,  the 
companionship  of  a  brother,  the  loyalty  of  a  husband. 

The  man  is  blinded  by  worship  of  his  own  child  ; 
your  father's  son  represents  to  him  all  that  is  noblest, 
most  honorable,  most  desirable  in  the  world. 

Sir,  this  is  a  strange  request,  an  overdrawn  draft 
upon  your  gratitude,  I  fear.  Yet  I  write  you  as  I  am 
bidden.  An  answer  should  be  returned  by  cable  with 
as  little  delay  as  possible.  He  will  live  until  he  re 
ceives  it.  Marriage  by  proxy  is  legal.  Special  dis 
pensation  is  certain. 

I  am,  sir,  with  great  respect, 

Your  very  humble  servant, 

WILLIAM  CAMPBELL. 
Att'y  and  Counselor  at  Law, 
7  rue  d'Issy. 

When  Courtlandt  finished  reading  he  folded  the 
letter,  glancing  across  at  Edgerton :  "  That  was 
155 


THE   TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

written  two  years  ago  to-day,  you  remember? — 
this  foreclosure  of  his  mortgage  upon  your  grati 
tude!" 

"  I  remember,"  said  Edgerton. 

"  From  the  gratitude  of  the  conscientious,  good 
Lord  deliver  us !  "  murmured  Courtlandt,  unfold 
ing  another  paper.  "  This  is  a  copy  of  the  asinine 
cablegram  you  sent,  without  consulting  me."  And 
he  read: 

INNIS, 

23  rue  d'Abdul  Hamid,  Paris. 

I  assume  all  responsibility  for  your  daughter's  future. 
Utterly  impossible  for  me  to  leave  New  York.  If  you 
believe  marriage  advisable,  arrange  for  special  dispensa 
tion  and  ceremony  by  proxy. 

JOHN  EDGERTON. 

Courtlandt  rose  and  walked  over  to  the  fire 
where  Edgerton  was  sitting.  His  client  raised  his 
head,  eyes  a  trifle  dazed  from  the  pressure  of  his 
fingers  on  the  closed  lids. 

"  What  the  merry  deuce  did  you  send  that  cable 
for  ?  "  muttered  Courtlandt  under  his  breath. 

"  I  don't  know — a  debt  of  gratitude — and  he 
did  not  want  it  paid  in  money.  I — an  appeal  like 
that  had  to  be  honored,  you  see.  I  was  ashamed 
to  haggle  at  the  day  of  reckoning.  A  man  can 
not  appraise  his  own  gratitude." 
156 


EX  CURIA 


"  Such  things  cannot  be  asked  of  gratitude," 
growled  the  attorney.  "  The  business  of  the 
world  is  not  run  on  impulse!  What  is  grati 
tude?" 

"  It  is  not  gratitude  if  it  asks  that  question," 
returned  Edgerton ;  "  and  I  fear  that  after  all  it 
was  not  exactly  gratitude.  Gratitude  gives;  a 
debt  of  honor  exacts.  There  is  no  profit  in  fol 
lowing  this  line  further,  is  there,  Billy  ?  " 

"  No,"  assented  Courtlandt,  "  unless  it's  going 
to  help  us  disentangle  the  unfortunate  affair." 
He  unfolded  another  paper.  "  It's  too  dark  to 
read,"  he  observed,  leaning  forward  into  the  fire 
light.  The  red  reflection  of  the  coals  played  over 
his  face  and  the  black-edged  notepaper  he  was 
scanning.  And  he  read,  slowly : 

January  3,  1903. 

DEAR  MR.  EDGERTON  :  For  your  very  gentle  letter 
to  me  I  beg  to  thank  you ;  I  deeply  appreciate  your 
delicacy  at  a  time  when  kindness  is  most  needed.  Had 
you  not  written  as  you  have,  I  should  have  found  it 
difficult  to  discuss  a  situation  which  I  am  only  just  be 
ginning  to  realize  must  be  as  embarrassing  to  you  as  it 
is  to  me. 

In  the  grief  and  distress  which  overwhelmed  me 
when  I  was  so  suddenly  summoned  from  the  convent 
to  find  my  father  so  ill,  I  did  not,  could  not  realize  the 
step  I  was  asked  to  take.  All  I  knew  was  that  he  de- 

157 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

sired  it,  begged  for  it,  and  it  meant  to  me  nothing — 
this  ceremony  which  made  you  my  husband — nothing 
except  a  little  happiness  for  the  father  I  loved. 

He  made  the  responses  for  you,  I  kneeling  at  his 
bedside,  scarce  able  to  speak  in  my  grief.  There  were 
two  brief  ceremonies,  the  civil  and  religious.  He  died 
very  quietly  that  night. 

Pray  believe  me  that  I  understand  how  impossible  it 
is  for  you  to  leave  affairs  of  importance  to  come  to 
Paris  at  this  time.  My  aunt,  who  is  with  the  Ursulines, 
has  received  me.  It  is  very  quiet,  very  peaceful ;  I 
have  opportunity  for  meditation,  and  for  studies  which 
I  left  uncompleted.  Mr.  Campbell,  whom  you  have  so 
considerately  retained  for  my  legal  guidance,  is  kind 
and  tactful.  He  has,  I  believe,  communicated  with 
you  in  regard  to  the  most  generous  provision  you  have 
made  for  me.  Pray  believe  that  I  require  very,  very 
little.  I  regret  the  loss  of  my  father's  fortune  only 
because  it  should  have  perhaps  compensated  you  a 
trifle  for  your  kindness  to  my  father  in  his  last  hours. 

I  hesitate — I  feel  the  greatest  reluctance  and  deli 
cacy  in  addressing  you  upon  a  matter  that  troubles  me. 
It  is  this,  Mr.  Edgerton :  if,  through  gratitude  to  my 
father  for  service  done  your  father,  you  offered  to  be 
come  responsible  for  me,  perhaps — I  do  not  know — 
perhaps,  as  you  have  done  me  the  honor  of  protecting 
me  with  your  name,  it  is  all  that  could  be  expected — 
and  I  hasten  to  assure  you  that  I  am  content.  In 
deed,  had  I  realized,  had  I  even  begun  to  comprehend 
what  I  was  doing —  Yet  what  could  I  do  but  obey 
him  at  such  a  time  ? 

158 


EX   CURIA 


So,  if  you  think  it  well  that  we  remain  apart  for  a 
while,  I  am  content  and  happy  to  obey  your  wishes. 
Your  name,  which  I  now  bear,  I  honor ;  your  wishes, 
monsieur,  are  my  commands. 

With  gratitude,  confidence,  and  respect,  I  remain, 
Faithfully  yours, 

KATHLEEN  INNIS  EDGERTON. 

Convent  of  the  Ursulines, 
rue  Daumont. 

Courtlandt  refolded  the  letter,  and  sat  rubbing 
his  eyes.  "  For  Heaven's  sake  let's  have  a  light !  " 
he  grumbled,  leaning  over  and  pushing  the  electric 
button. 

The  light  broke  out  overhead,  flooding  the 
library,  glistening  among  gay  evergreen  wreaths 
tied  with  bunches  of  Christmas  holly  which  hung 
against  the  library  windows. 

Edgerton  raised  his  pale  face,  then  his  head 
sank  on  his  breast;  he  folded  his  arms,  gazing 
absently  into  the  fire.  "  Go  on,"  he  said. 

So  Courtlandt  read  other  letters  from  Mrs. 
Edgerton,  brief  notes,  perfunctory,  reserved,  and 
naive;  and  he  read  letters  from  Campbell,  the  at 
torney,  acknowledging  provisions  made  for  his 
young  client. 

When  he  finished  he  refolded  all  the  papers, 
retied  them  with  pink  tape,  and  laid  them  on  the 
159 


THE   TREE   OF  HEAVEN 

table  at  Edgerton's  elbow.  "  Now,"  he  said, 
"  comes  the  question.  You  have  arrived  at  the 
conclusion  that  Mrs.  Edgerton  desires  and  de 
serves  her  freedom.  And  you  want  to  know  what 
I  think." 

"  Yes,"  said  Edgerton. 

"  You  gave  me  a  month  to  look  up  the  matter." 

"  Yes,  a  month." 

"  And  now  you  want  me  to  report,  don't  you, 
Jack?" 

Edgerton  glanced  up.  "  If  you're  ready,"  he 
said. 

"  I'm  ready.  First  I  want  to  ask  you  a  ques 
tion.  Is  there  any  woman  you  have  met,  before 
or  since  your  marriage,  whom  you  might  fall  in 
love  with  if  you  were  free  to  do  so  ?  " 

"  No,  I  believe  not — I  don't  know.  I  am — I  was 
not  actuated  by  selfishness." 

"  All  right.  Still,  you  are  capable  of  loving 
somebody,  are  you  not  ?  " 

"  I  fancy  so.  I  should  like  to  have  a  chance  to 
marry — for  love." 

"  But  you  never  met  the  right  one  ?  " 

"  There  is — I  have  caught  a  glimpse — once — 
one  woman " 

"Is  that  all?"  laughed  Courtlandt.     "That's 
not  enough  to  bowl  you  over." 
160 


EX   CURIA 


"  It  was  almost  enough !  "  retorted  Edgerton. 
Through  his  voice  rang  an  undertone  of  impa 
tience.  His  attorney  looked  up  quickly. 

"  Oh,  is  it  as  serious  as  that  ?  No  wonder  you 
want  your  freedom !  Who  is  the  woman  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  retorted  the 
younger  man  sullenly.  "  I  told  you  that  I  saw 
a  woman  once,  whom  I  should  like  to  have 
had  a  chance  to  see  again.  What  of  it?  I  never 
shall." 

"  When  was  this,  Jack?  " 

"  Yesterday — if  you  want  to  know." 

"Where?" 

"  Driving  in  the  park." 

"Who  is  she?" 

"  You  could  answer  that  question,"  said  Edger 
ton,  wheeling  around  on  his  friend.  "  You  were 
driving  with  her." 

Courtlandt  stared,  slowly  turning  redder  and 
redder. 

"  You  wanted  to  know,"  observed  Edgerton, 
eying  him.  "  It  means  nothing,  of  course — I 
was  riding  along  the  bridle  path  and  I  caught  a 
glimpse  of  you,  and  I  saw  her  face.  I  thought 
her  beautiful,  that's  all.  Drop  the  subject." 

"  Certainly,"  answered  Courtlandt.  He  opened 
his  match  box  and  relighted  his  cigar ;  then  he  fell 
161 


THE    TREE   OF  HEAVEN 

to  musing,  breaking  the  burnt  match  up  into 
little  pieces  and  tossing  the  morsels,  one  by  one, 
into  the  fire. 

"  Jack,"  he  drawled,  still  busy  with  the  match, 
"  you  gave  me  a  month  to  report  upon  this  mat 
ter  concerning  the  dissolution  of  your  marriage. 
It  might  interest  you  to  learn  the  first  step  I 
took." 

.  "What  was  it?"  inquired  Edgerton,  raising 
his  troubled  eyes. 

"  I  went  to  Paris." 

"  To— to  see " 

"  Certainly,  to  see  Mrs.  Edgerton." 

The  men's  eyes  met;  the  lawyer  shrugged  his 
shoulders. 

"  Mrs.  Edgerton  is  very  inexperienced,  very 
young,"  he  said.  "  She  is,  of  course,  a  Catholic. 
But  if  she  desired  her  freedom  a  thousand  times 
as  fervently  as  you  might  desire  yours,  the  law 
of  her  religion  bars  her  way.  You  knew  that  of 
course." 

"  I  thought — sometimes — "  began  the  other. 

"  You  are  wrong." 

Edgerton  stared  into  the  glowing  coals. 

"  So  you  left  it  to  me  to  see  what  could  be 
done,"  added  the  attorney  dryly. 

Edgerton  assented. 

162 


EX   CURIA 


"Well,"  said  Courtlandt,  "I  shouldn't  have 
accepted  such  a  commission  had  I  not  known  it 
was  quite  unselfish  on  your  part.  You  told  me 
that  her  letters  to  you  were  pitifully  loyal  and 
conscientious;  that  you  felt  like  a  jailer  watching 
an  innocent  life  prisoner;  that  if  you  only  knew 
how  to  do  it  you  would  give  her  the  liberty  God 
meant  her  to  enjoy — liberty  to  love  and  be  loved. 
And  you  allowed  me  a  month  to  find  the  way  to 
settle  this  wretched  affair." 

"  Yes.     Is  there  a  way?  " 

"  Only  one,"  replied  Courtlandt  gravely.  He 
rose,  offering  his  hand. 

Edgerton  also  rose,  tall,  clean  cut,  closely 
cropped  hair  just  tinged  with  gray  at  the  temples. 

"  Only  one  way,"  repeated  Courtlandt  deliber 
ately,  "  and  that  is  for  you  to  discuss  the  situation 
with  Mrs.  Edgerton. 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  Edgerton  sharply,  drop 
ping  his  friend's  hand.  "  You  know  I  can't  leave 
town  to  go  to  Paris." 

Courtlandt  coolly  consulted  his  watch.  "  I  neg 
lected  to  say  that  Mrs.  Edgerton  is  in  town.  I 
believe " — he  glanced  at  his  watch  again,  then 
closed  it  with  a  snap — "  I  suggested  that  she  waive 
ceremony  and  meet  us  here." 

"Here!"  muttered  Edgerton.  "Wait  a  mo- 
163 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

ment,  will  you?     Do  you  mean  to  say  that  she  is 
coming  here  to-night  ?  " 

"  Why  not  ?  "  said  Courtlandt,  his  gray  eyes 
narrowing.  "  If  she  chooses  to  accept  my  advice, 
if  she  is  woman  enough  to  overlook  what  is  due 
her  from  her  husband,  why  should  she  not  come 
here  as  freely  as  you  come  ?  " 

"  Are  you  my  attorney  or  hers  ?  "  demanded  the 
other  in  astonishment. 

"  Yours,  Jack  —  acting  for  your  interest  — 
which  is  hers,  too — which  must  be  hers.  Where 
is  your  sense  of  honor?  Where  is  your  sense  of 
justice?  Has  the  glimpse  of  a  woman's  face  in 
the  park  seared  your  eyes?  Is  it  true  that  an 
indifferent  man  can  be  just,  but  a  man  in  love  is 
a  partisan?  You  could  be  coldly  considerate  and 
deal  out  passionless  justice  until  yesterday.  Now 
for  the  first  time  the  fetters  gall  you.  Is  this  the 
crisis  where  you  flinch?  " 

He  stood,  jerking  on  his  gloves,  scanning  Edg- 
erton's  face. 

"  I  told  her  that  the  proper  place  to  discuss  the 
situation  was  under  her  own  roof ;  and  I  am  right. 
Do  you  consider  a  public  hotel  the  suitable  en 
vironment  for  such  a  conference?  Her  pride  and 
intelligence  comprehended  me.  That's  all  I  have 
to  say." 

164 


EX  CURIA 


"  Why  did  you  not  tell  me  before  this  that  she 
was  in  town?  I  understand  the  requirements  of 
civilization,  do  I  not?  " 

"  I  did  not  tell  you,  because  we  landed  only 
yesterday  morning." 

"  She  came  over  with  you?  " 

"  On  my  advice  and  at  my  earnest  solicita 
tion." 

Edgerton  stared  at  him,  tugging  at  his  short 
mustache. 

"  What  are  we  to  discuss  ?  "  he  demanded  sul 
lenly.  "  As  she  is  Catholic  we  cannot  discuss 
divorce.  We  could,  of  course,  come  to  some  con 
clusion  concerning  a  modus  vivendi." 

"  I  expect  you  to  come  to  some  such  conclusion. 
Two  years  ago  you  were  twenty-eight — an  over 
sensitive  young  man,  impulsive,  illogical,  and  mor 
bid  concerning  personal  obligations.  Without 
consulting  your  legal  adviser  you  perpetrated  a 
crime — for  it  is  criminal  to  parody  the  highest 
safeguard  to  civilization — marriage.  It  was  a 
crime;  your  wife  is  your  accomplice — particeps 
criminis,  my  friend.  Neither  you  nor  she  deserves 
mercy." 

He  turned  away,  buttoning  his  gloves. 

"  It's  touched  your  temples  with  gray,"  he  ob 
served.  "  You  have  learned  something  at  thirty, 
165 


THE   TREE   OF  HEAVEN 

Jack,  even  if  it's  cost  you  what  you  think  a 
mesalliance" 

As  he  stepped  to  the  door  a  maid  appeared  with 
a  card  on  a  salver.  Edgerton  glanced  at  it,  then 
looked  straight  into  Courtlandt's  eyes. 

"  I'm  sorry  I  needed  this  lesson  in  decency,"  he 
said.  "  It  was  all  right  for  you  to  administer  it. 
You  need  not  worry;  I  understand  that  I  am  at 
my  wife's  disposal,  not  she  at  mine.  I've  kept  my 
medicine  waiting  for  two  years,  that's  all." 

"  Oh,  you're  getting  on,"  observed  Courtlandt 
carelessly.  "  Good  night — I've  a  word  to  say  to 
Mrs.  Edgerton  before  I  go." 

"  You  mean  to  stay,  don't  you  ?  "  began  the 
other,  flushing  up.  "  It  would  be  less  trying  for 
her " 

But  Courtlandt  hurried  off  down  the  stairs, 
muttering  vaguely  of  engagements  for  Christmas 
Eve,  leaving  Edgerton  staring  after  him  through 
the  dimly  lighted  hallway. 

He  heard  Courtlandt  enter  the  drawing-room; 
he  could  distinguish  the  quick,  low  exchange  of 
greeting;  then  he  went  down  slowly,  steadying 
himself  by  the  banisters. 

A  young  girl  in  furs  turned  toward  him  as  he 
entered ;  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  blue  eyes,  a  glint 
of  bright  hair  framed  in  fluffy  fur;  he  heard 
166 


EX   CURIA 


Courtlandt's  cool,  easy  voice  presenting  him  to 
his  wife;  he  took  the  slim  gloved  hand  out 
stretched,  held  it  stupidly  until  it  was  withdrawn ; 
then  Courtlandt's  voice  again,  promising  to  re 
turn,  and  exacting  her  promise  to  wait  here  for 
him  if  he  should  be  detained. 

"  I'm  sorry  I  can't  remain  and  dine  with  you 
and  Mr.  Edgerton  on  this  night  before  Christ 
mas,"  added  Courtlandt  blandly,  making  for  the 
door. 

"  Oh !  "  she  said,  surprised,  "  I  did  not  under 
stand  that  Mr.  Edgerton  invited  us." 

The  color  stung  Edgerton's  face,  and  he  said 
in  a  low  voice :  "  You  are  at  home,  madam ;  it  is 
for  you  to  invite  us.  Perhaps  Mr.  Conrtlandt 
will  stay  if  you  ask  him ;  I  will  if  you  ask  me." 

She  gave  him  a  confused,  brilliant  little  smile, 
a  delicate  tint  mounting  to  her  cheeks. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said ;  "  you — everybody  is 
so  delightful  to  me.  Will  you  stay,  Mr.  Court 
landt  ?  I — we  beg  of  you !  No  ?  Then,  until  I — 
until  we  have  the  pleasure — at  nine,  I  believe?  " 

From  force  of  habit  she  turned  to  the  dazed 
maid,  who  also  instinctively  recognized  authority, 
and  opened  the  door  which  a  second  later  closed 
upon  the  most  profoundly  excited  young  attorney 
in  Manhattan. 

12  167 


THE   TREE   OF  HEAVEN 

Mrs.  Edgerton  raised  her  blue  eyes  to  her  hus 
band  as  a  maid  relieved  her  of  her  furs  and  little 
gilt-edged  tricorne. 

"  I — I  wonder  if  you  are  as  embarrassed  as  I 
am  ?  "  she  said,  laughing  and  touching  her  golden 
hair  with  a  frank  side  glance  at  the  mirror. 

"  Dreadfully  embarrassed,"  admitted  Edgerton, 
scarcely  conscious  of  what  he  uttered;  oblivious, 
too,  of  the  usages  of  civilization  until  she  sank 
into  an  armchair  with  a  shy  "  May  I  ?  " 

"  It  is  for  me  to  ask  the  privilege,"  he  said, 
biting  his  lip. 

"  Oh,  if  you  please?  " — she  smiled,  with  a  ges 
ture  toward  the  chair  beside  her. 

Seated  there  with  him  under  the  crystal  chande 
lier,  she  fell  silent,  meeting  his  gaze  at  moments 
with  a  questioning  smile,  partly  confident,  partly 
uncertain. 

"  I  saw  you  in  the  park  yesterday,"  he  said 
under  his  breath,  never  taking  his  eyes  from  her. 

"  I  saw  you,  too,"  she  replied  quickly.  "  You 
rode  a  bay.  I  never  imagined — "  she  bent  her 
head,  thoughtfully  studying  the  arabesques  on  the 
rug.  "  You  ride  very  well,"  she  added.  Then, 
after  a  moment's  silence :  "  And  you  remembered 
me?  " 

"  I  recognized  you  at  once,"  he  said,  "  the  in- 
168 


EX   CURIA 


stant  I  entered  this  room.  It  was  that  which 
startled  me — made  me  appear  stupid " 

"  You  did  not  appear  stupid " 

"  I  was  awkward,  dumb " 

"I  chattered  sufficiently  for  two.  Indeed,  I 
was  not  at  all  composed." 

"  Did — did  you  recognize  me  at  once?  " 

She  looked  at  him,  she  glanced  at  the  rug, 
her  blue  eyes  grew  vague,  lost  in  retrospective 
reverie. 

He  did  not  repeat  the  question,  but  asked  her 
how  long  it  was  since  she  had  been  in  America. 

"Oh,  many  years — I  was  only  three  when  my 
father  went  to  France."  Then  the  warm  color 
came  into  her  face  and  she  clasped  her  hands  im 
pulsively.  "  I  do  not  believe,"  she  said,  "  that  I 
have  conveyed  to  you  in  letters  my  deep  apprecia 
tion  of  your  loyalty  to  me.  I — I  did  not  know 
how  to  express  it — I  do  not  now.  Believe  me, 
monsieur,  it  does  exist ! " 

"  What  have  you  to  thank  me  for?  "  he  asked 
almost  brusquely.  Then,  in  a  rush  of  bitterness : 
"  Your  sentiments  honor  yourself,  not  me,  madam. 
For  two  years  I  have  been  responsible  for  your 
happiness.  What  have  I  done  to  secure  it?  " 

She  turned  a  trifle  pale,  unprepared  for  such  a 
question.  But  she  answered  very  sweetly :  "  You 
169 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

left  me  guarded  by  the  honor  of  your  own  name. 
I  have  never  wanted  for  anything;  I  have  had  the 
quiet  and  seclusion  I  desired.  What  more  is  there, 
Mr.  Edgerton?" 

And  as  he  remained  silent,  she  raised  her  head 
with  a  gay  little  smile :  "  You  could  not  leave  your 
affairs  to  come  to  France;  you  did  not  suggest 
that  I  come  to  New  York.  How  could  I  know 
that  I  should " 

"What?"  he  urged. 

But  she  closed  her  red  lips,  sitting  mute,  sud 
denly  shy  again. 

After  a  moment  she  said :  "  Mais — he  is  absent 
a  long  while,  Mr.  Courtlandt." 

"  He  isn't  coming  until  nine  o'clock,"  said  Edg 
erton.  He  glanced  across  at  the  clock.  It  was 
half -past  seven. 

"  So,  in  the  meanwhile,  we  are  to  discuss  matters 
of  importance,"  she  suggested  seriously.  "  Mr. 
Courtlandt  said  so.  What,  monsieur,  are  we  to 
discuss  ?  " 

"  There  is  absolutely  nothing  that  I  know  of  to 
discuss,"  replied  Edgerton  slowly. 

"  Nothing  ?  "  she  inquired,  wide-eyed  and  in 
nocent. 

"  Nothing,  except  your  wishes,  and  they  admit 
of  no  discussion.  You  are  at  home  now." 

170 


EX   CURIA 


"  But  I— but  I  am  staying  at  the  Holland— 
Edgerton  touched  a  button ;  a  servant  appeared. 

"  Mrs.  Edgerton's  luggage  is  at  the  Holland," 
he  said  quietly.  "  Telephone  for  it." 

Mrs.  Edgerton  half  rose  from  her  chair;  then, 
meeting  her  husband's  grave  eyes,  she  sank  back, 
crimson  to  the  temples. 

"  We  are  merely  about  to  exchange  quarters," 
he  said  pleasantly.  "  I  shall  be  most  comfortable 
at  the  Holland." 

"  Oh,  you  shall  not ! — no,  it  is  all  wrong !  "  she 
pleaded,  the  color  fading  in  her  face.  "  I  cannot 
come  into  your  house — into  your  life " 

"  It  is  your  house,"  he  said  gently.  "  Still,  if 
— if  you  don't  mind — there  is  a  better  way  still 
of  arranging  matters.  I  have  a  whole  floor  on  the 
third  story ;  and  perhaps  you  might  not  mind  if 
I  retain  it.  I  promise,"  he  added,  laughing,  "  to 
be  a  model  tenant  and  not  keep  coal  in  my  bath 
tub !  " 

She  laughed,  too,  a  little  uncertainly. 

"  You  are  so  generous — so  kindly,"  she  said. 
"  How  can  you  endure  to  have  a  perfectly  silly 
girl  march  into  your  house " 

"Your  house!" 

"  Your  house !  Carry  it  by  assault,  capture  the 
nicest  suite,  and  drive  you  to  the  roof  among  the 

171 


THE   TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

sparrows  !     No,  it  is  shameful !     More  than  that, 
it  is  absurd !  " 

"  I  never  have  occupied  the  rooms  on  the  second 
floor,"  he  protested.  "  They  have  been  vacant 
since  I  took  this  house." 

"Truly?" 

"  Truly.  They  are  too  pretty  for  a  man  who 
smokes  a  pipe — all  rococo,  and  furniture  with 
beagle  legs,  you  know." 

"  For  whom  were  they  intended  ?  "  she  asked 
innocently. 

He  reddened.  "  I  bought  the  house  after  our 
wedding,"  he  hesitated ;  "  then,  afterwards,  from 
your  letters,  I  fancied  that  you  might  prefer  to 
remain  abroad.  So  I  said  nothing." 

She  bent  her  head.  "  I — I  thought  it  fairer — 
to  you,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice.  "  I  would  have 
come  had  you  asked  me.  I — how  was  I  to  know, 
Mr.  Edgerton?" 

They  sat  silent,  eyes  bent  on  the  floor.  Pres 
ently  he  went  on :  "  So  I  had  that  suite  fixed  up 
for  you.  And  I  moved  upstairs.  I  am  very 
happy  that  you  are  to  occupy  it." 

"  Do  you  really  desire  it  ?  " 

"  You  have  no  idea  how  pretty  it  is,"  he  urged. 

"Is  it  so  pretty?" 

"  Come  up  and  look  at  it ! " 
172 


EX   CURIA 


She  sprang  to  her  feet  on  the  impulse,  smiling, 
confident  of  his  kindness.  And  they  mounted  the 
stairs  together,  sans  fapon,  arriving  on  the  second 
floor  breathless. 

"  Oh,"  she  cried  softly,  as  she  entered,  "  it  is 
perfectly  charming !  "  She  stood  a  moment,  gaz 
ing  around,  then  with  a  delightful  gesture  bade 
him  enter. 

"Is  this  really  mine?"  she  repeated.  "How 
delicious !  "  She  passed  from  room  to  room,  paus 
ing  before  bits  of  furniture  that  attracted  her, 
touching  and  lifting  the  silver  on  dresser  and 
table.  "  My  own  initials ! "  she  said  under  her 
breath.  "  And  what  is  this  ?  "  laying  her  white 
fingers  on  a  jewel  case.  "Am  I  to  open  it? 
Really!  Oh,  the  beauty  of  it  all!  I — I  am  per 
fectly  overwhelmed,  mom — Mr.  Edgerton !  "  And 
she  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  bed,  pressing  her 
hands  to  her  eyes. 

A  maid  came  to  the  door ;  the  luggage  from  the 
Holland  had  arrived.  Presently  two  burly  ex 
pressmen  entered,  staggering  under  the  first  of  a 
series  of  trunks.  Her  maid  directed  the  men; 
Mrs.  Edgerton  sat,  hands  folded,  smiling,  blue 
eyes  a  trifle  dim,  while  her  husband,  standing  be 
side  her,  watched  the  operations. 

The  silvery  chime  of  a  clock  sounded,  striking 
173 


THE   TREE   OF  HEAVEN 

eight  times,  and  on  either  side  of  the  dial  gilt 
cupids  fluttered  their  burnished  wings. 

"  Impossible !  "  exclaimed  Edgerton.  Then 
with  a  laugh  almost  boyish,  he  said :  "  We're  sup 
posed  to  dine  at  eight." 

She  looked  vacantly  at  her  husband.  "  Dinner 
already !  Can  it  be  possible  time  has  flown  like 
that?  And  I — behold  me!  Have  I  time  to 
dress?" 

"  Time  is  yours  to  dispose  of,"  he  said,  smiling 
back  into  her  eyes ;  "  all  here  are  yours  to  dispose 
of  as  you  see  fit." 

"Even  you,  monsieur?"  She  laughed  in  her 
excitement  and  happiness,  not  weighing  words  and 
their  meaning  until  their  echo  returned  again  to 
appall  her — while  her  maid  aided  her  to  dress — 
and  the  echo  of  his  answer,  too,  rang  persistently 
in  her  ears :  "  Yes,  to  pardon,  to  dispose  of,  to 
command,  always,  as  long  as  I  have  life  to  serve 
you." 

And  now  she  was  ready,  smiling  nervously  back 
at  her  own  flushed  reflection  in  the  mirror — a 
young  girl  stirred  to  the  soul  by  kindness,  almost 
intoxicated  at  a  glimpse  of  her  own  undreamed 
of  beauty,  surprised  there  in  the  depths  of  the 
mirror. 

The  banisters  were  decorated  with  twisted  ropes 
174 


"At  the  foot  of  the  stairs  siie  .      .  made  him  a  low  reverence. 


EX  CURIA 


of  evergreens ;  she  descended  slowly,  cheeks  burn 
ing,  eyes  fixed  steadily  on  her  husband,  who  stood 
motionless  below  to  receive  her.  A  tiny  light  here 
and  there  caught  the  thick  tendrils  of  her  heavy 
burnished  hair  and  glimmered  on  her  smooth,  full 
neck  and  arms. 

At  the  foot  of  the  stairs  she  paused,  made  him 
a  low  reverence,  then,  gathering  her  silken  -train, 
she  looked  fearlessly  into  his  face  and  laid  her 
hand  lightly  in  his. 

So,  moving  serenely  side  by  side,  they  passed 
under  holly  and  mistletoe  and  ropes  of  evergreen, 
through  the  long  drawing-room,  through  the 
music  room,  slowly,  more  slowly,  until  the  great 
velvet  hangings  barred  their  way. 

There  they  paused,  turning  face  to  face,  her 
small  hand  scarcely  touching  his. 

"  Can  you  forgive  me?  "  he  asked  under  his 
breath. 

"  Forgive  you  ?  "  she  repeated  tremulously ;  "  I 
can  do — more  than  that.  .  .  .  Ask  me." 

But  there  was  no  time,  for  the  butler,  bowing, 
had  drawn  the  portieres  to  the  full  length  of  the 
golden  cords. 


175 


CHAPTER    VII 

THE    GOLDEN    POOL 

So  the  doctor,  finding  his  patient's  quarters 
untenanted  for  the  first  time  in  many  months, 
hastened  downstairs  and  out  to  the  veranda,  where 
he  discovered  a  lean,  soldierly  looking  young  fel 
low  clad  in  fishing  coat  fussing  with  rod  and  reel. 

"  Oho,  my  enterprising  friend ! "  he  said. 
"What  mischief  are  you  hatching  now?" 

"  I'm  going  to  try  for  your  big  trout  in  the 
Golden  Pool,"  said  his  patient  calmly. 

This  unlooked-for  energy  appeared  to  embar 
rass  the  doctor.  His  grim  mouth  tightened. 

"  Don't  go  now,"  he  said ;  "  it's  too  late  in  the 
morning." 

"  I'm  going  anyhow,"  retorted  his  patient. 

"  Don't  be  obstinate ;  that  fish  won't  rise  til] 
evening." 

"  I  know  it,  but  I'm  going." 

"  Against  my  orders !  "  demanded  the  exasper 
ated  doctor. 

"  With  pleasure,"  replied  the  young  man  gayly. 
176 


THE    GOLDEN   POOL 


"  And  it's  your  own  doing,  too.  Do  you  remem 
ber  what  you  said  last  night?  " 

"  I  said  I  saw  a  big  fish  rising  in  that  pool," 
growled  the  doctor. 

"  Exactly ;  and  that  has  done  more  to  brace  me 
up  than  all  your  purple  pills  for  peculiar  people." 

"  Don't  go  to  the  Golden  Pool  now !  "  said  the 
doctor  with  emphasis.  "  I  have  a  particular  rea 
son  for  making  this  request." 

"What  reason?" 

"  I  won't  tell  you." 

"  You're  after  that  fish  yourself !  No,  you 
don't!" 

"  That's  idiotic." 

"  Well,  anyhow,  good-by." 

"  You  shan't ! "  exclaimed  the  doctor  wrath- 
f ully.  "  Give  me  that  rod !  " 

But  his  patient  clung  to  the  rod,  laughing. 

"  Now  what  the  devil  possesses  you  to  make  for 
the  Golden  Pool  at  this  particular  minute  ?  "  de 
manded  the  vexed  doctor.  "  You've  been  an  in 
valid  for  a  year  and  more,  and  up  to  this  moment 
you've  done  what  I  told  you." 

His  patient  continued  to  laugh  —  that  same 
light-hearted,  infectious  laugh  which  the  doctor 
had  not  heard  in  many  a  month,  and  he  looked  at 
him  keenly. 

177 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

"  All  the  same,  you're  not  well  yet,  and  you 
know  it,"  he  said. 

"  My  aversion  to  women  ?  " 

"  Partly." 

"  You  mean  my  memory  still  fails  me  ?  Well, 
then,  what  do  you  think  happened  this  morning?  " 

"What?"  inquired  the  doctor  sulkily. 

"  This :  I  went  out  to  the  stables  and  recog 
nized  Phelan  and  Riley!  How's  that  for  a  start? 
Then  " — he  glanced  across  the  lawn  where  an  old 
gardener  pottered  about  among  the  petunias — 
"  there's  Dawson,  isn't  it?  And  this  is  my  own 
place — Gleniris!  Isn't  it?  Besides,"  he  added, 
"  my  aversion  to  women  is  disappearing ;  I  saw  a 
girl  on  the  lawn  from  my  window  this  morning. 
Who  is  she?" 

"  Was  she  dressed  in  white?  "  asked  the  doctor. 

**  Don't  remember." 

"  You  never  before  saw  her  ?  " 

"  No — I  don't  know.     I  didn't  see  her  face." 

"  So  it  seems  you  can't  recollect  the  back  of  a 
relative  or  a  neighbor!  Now  what  do  you  think 
of  yourself?  " 

"  Relative?    Nonsense,"  he  laughed ;  "  I  haven't 

any.      As   for  the  neighbors,   give  me  time,   for 

Heaven's  sake !    I'm  doing  beautifully.    There  are 

millions  of  things  that  set  me  thinking  and  worry- 

178 


THE   GOLDEN   POOL 


ing  now — funny  flashes  of  memory — hints  of  the 
past,  vague  glimpses  that  excite  me  to  effort ;  but 
nothing — absolutely  nothing — yet  of  that  blank 
year.  Was  it  a  year?  " 

"  More ;  never  mind  that !  " 

"How  long  was  it?"  asked  his  patient  wist 
fully. 

"  Sixteen  months." 

"  You  said  I  was  shot,  I  think." 

"  No,  I  didn't.  You  think  you  were,  but  it  was 
done  with  a  Malay  kris.  Now,  what  can  you  re 
member  about  it?  " 

The  young  man  stood  silent,  fumbling  with  his 
rod. 

"  And  you  tell  me  you're  cured !  "  observed  the 
doctor  sarcastically,  "  and  you  can't  even  recollect 
how  you  got  swiped  with  a  Malay  kris !  " 

"  1  might  if  I  could  see  the  Malay — or  the  kris." 

The  doctor,  who  had  begun  to  pace  the  veranda, 
halted  and  glanced  sharply  at  his  patient. 

'  The  best  way  to  remember  things  is  to  see 
'em?  Is  that  your  idea?" 

"  I  think  so.  It's  true  I've  seen  Phelan  many 
times  without  remembering  him,  but  to-day  I  rec 
ognized  him.  Isn't  that  good  medicine?  " 

The  doctor  thought  a  moment,  fished  out  his 
watch  from  the  fob  pocket,  regarded  it  absently, 
179 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

and  came  down  the  steps  to  the  lawn,  where  his 
patient  stood  making  practice  casts  with  his  light 
bamboo  rod. 

"  I'll  tell  you  why  I  didn't  want  you  to  go  to 
the  Golden  Pool,"  he  said. 

"Well,  why?" 

"  Poachers,"  replied  the  doctor,  watching  him. 
"  They  fish  in  the  pools,  and  they  use  your  canoe, 
and  they  even  have  the  impudence  to  go  bathing 
in  the  Golden  Pool.  ...  I  didn't  want  you  to 
worry." 

"  I  think  the  poacher  I  catch  will  do  the  worry 
ing,"  said  the  young  man,  laughing.  "  Is  that 
all?" 

"  That  is  all.  Go  ahead  if  you  want  to.  If 
you  run  across  that  girl  invite  her  to  dinner. 
She's  a  friend  of  mine."  And  the  doctor  walked 
off,  shoving  his  hands  deep  into  his  capacious 
pockets. 

His  patient  reeled  in  the  line,  smiling  to  him 
self,  and  started  off  across  the  meadow  at  a  good 
swinging  pace.  He  entered  the  forest  by  the 
meadow  bridge,  where  a  lank  yokel  was  mowing 
grass. 

"  Mornin' !  "  ventured  the  native,  with  a  doubt 
ful  grin  of  recognition. 

"  Look  here,"  said  the  young  man,  halting  in 
180 


THE    GOLDEN   POOL 


the  path  of  the  scythe,  "  ought  I  to  know  your 
name?  Tell  me  the  truth." 

"  I  cal'late  yew  orter,"  replied  the  yokel.  "  I've 
been  chorin'  for  yew  close  tew  ten  year." 

A  shadow  fell  over  the  master's  lean  face,  and 
he  went  on  through  the  underbrush,  muttering  to 
himself,  passing  his  thin  hand  again  and  again 
across  his  forehead. 

"Oh,  well,  I'll  stick  to  it,"  he  said  aloud;  "a 
man  can't  dance  on  a  broken  leg  nor  think  with  a 
broken  head;  they've  got  to  be  mended  first — well 
mended." 

Walking  on  through  the  fragrant  forest,  the 
shadow  of  care  slipped  from  his  face  again,  leav 
ing  it  placid  once  more.  The  scent  of  the  June 
woods,  the  far,  dull  throbbing  of  a  partridge 
drumming  in  leafy  depths,  the  happy  sighing  of 
a  woodland  world  astir,  all  these  were  gentle  stimu 
lants  to  that  sanity  toward  the  shadowy  borders 
of  which  he  had  so  long  been  struggling  from  the 
region  of  dreadful  night. 

Spreading  branches,  dew-spangled,  slapped  his 
face  as  he  passed;  the  moist  rich  odor  of  clean 
earth  filled  throat  and  lungs;  a  subdued,  almost 
breathless  expectancy  brooded  in  the  wake  of  the 
south  wind. 

When  he  emerged  from  the  forest  and  entered 
181 


THE   TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

the  long  glade,  mountain  and  thicket  were  swim 
ming  in  crystalline  light ;  ferns  hung  weighted 
with  dew ;  the  outrush  of  bird  music  was  incessant. 

Far  in  the  wet  woods  he  could  hear  the  river 
flowing — or  was  it  the  breeze  freshening  in  the 
pines  ? 

Listening,  enraptured,  boyish  recollections 
awoke,  and  he  instinctively  took  his  bearings  from 
the  blue  peak  in  the  east.  So  the  Ousel  Pool  lay  to 
the  west.  He  would  fish  that  uncertain  water 
later;  but  first  the  Golden  Pool,  where  the  great 
trout  had  been  seen,  rising  as  recklessly  as  a  min 
now  in  a  meadow  brook. 

Now,  all  excitement  and  expectancy,  he  waded 
on,  knee-deep  in  drenched  grasses,  watching  the 
soft  mothlike  flutter  of  the  bluebirds  among  the 
iris.  They  had  always  hovered  over  this  spot  in 
June,  he  remembered  now.  Truly  summer  skies 
were  healing  him  of  his  hurt;  he  recognized  the 
belt  of  blue-beech  saplings  all  crossbarred  with 
sunlight,  and  he  heard  the  familiar  rush  of  waters 
below. 

Suddenly,  beyond  the  sprayed  undergrowth,  he 
caught  a  glow  of  color,  a  glimpse  of  that  rich 
sunny  foliage  which  gave  the  Golden  Pool  its 
name ;  and  now  the  familiar  water  lay  glimmering 
before  him  through  the  trees,  and  he  began  th* 
182 


THE   GOLDEN   POOL 


descent,  stepping  quietly  as  a  deer  entering  a 
strange  covert. 

At  the  water's  edge  he  paused,  cautiously;  but 
there  was  no  canoe  lying  under  the  alders.  Mem 
ory  halted  short,  then  began  groping  backward 
through  the  years. 

Where  was  the  canoe?  There  had  always  been 
one  here — in  his  boyhood  and  ever  since — up  to 
that  obscured  and  cloudy  space  of  time 

He  dropped  to  his  knees  and  parted  the  leafy 
thicket  with  his  hands.  There  was  no  canoe  there, 
nothing  except  a  book  lying  on  a  luncheon  basket ; 
and — what  was  this? — and  this? 

He  stared  stupidly  for  a  moment,  then  rose  and 
stepped  through  the  thicket  to  the  edge  of  the 
water.  A  canoe  glittered  out  there,  pulled  up  on 
a  flat,  sunny  rock  in  midstream,  and  upon  the  rock 
lay  a  girl  in  a  dripping  bathing  dress  drying  her 
hair  in  the  sun. 

Instantly  an  odd  sense  of  it  all  having  happened 
before  seized  him — the  sun  on  the  water,  the  canoe, 
the  slim  figure  lying  there.  And  when  she  indo 
lently  raised  her  hand,  stifling  a  dainty  yawn,  and 
stretched  her  arms  luxuriously,  it  seemed  to  him 
the  repetition  of  a  forgotten  scene  too  familiar  to 
surprise  him. 

Then,  as  she  sat  up,  leisurely  twisting  her  sun- 
13  183 


THE   TREE  OF  HEAVEN 

bronzed  hair,  a  chance  turn  of  her  head  brought 
him  into  direct  line  of  vision.  They  stared  at  one 
another  across  the  sunny  water. 

For  one  second  the  thought  flashed  on  him  that 
he  knew  her ;  then  in  the  same  moment  all  that  had 
seemed  familiar  in  the  situation  faded  into  strange 
ness  and  apprehension,  and  he  was  aware  that  he 
had  never  before  looked  upon  her  face. 

Yet,  curiously  enough,  his  long  and  melancholy 
aversion  to  women  had  not  returned  at  sight  of 
her.  She  had  risen  in  surprise,  wide  dark  eyes 
on  him;  and  he  spoke  immediately,  saying  he  had 
not  meant  to  disturb  her,  and  that  she  was  quite 
welcome  to  use  the  canoe. 

Her  first  stammered  words  annoyed  him.  "  Did 
the  doctor — come  with  you?  Are  you — are  you 
alone?" 

"  I  suppose  the  entire  countryside  knows  I  have 
been  ill,"  he  said ;  "  but  I'm  perfectly  able  to  be 
about  without  a  doctor."  He  began  to  laugh. 
"  But  those  are  not  the  questions.  The  questions 
are  what  are  people  doing  in  these  woods  with 
luncheon  baskets  and  summer  novels,  and  how  am 
I  to  fish  this  pool  if  people  swim  in  it;  and  how 
am  I  to  fish  at  all  if  an  attractive  stranger  takes 
possession  of  my  canoe?  " 

"  I — I  had  no  idea  you  were  coming  here,"  she 
184 


THE   GOLDEN  POOL 


faltered.    "  I  bathe  here  every  morning,  and  then 
I  lunch  here  and  read." 

He  laughed  outright  at  her  innocent  acknowl 
edgment  of  the  trespass. 

"  I  have  a  clear  case  against  you,"  he  said. 
"  Haven't  you  read  all  my  notices  nailed  up  on 
trees?  *  Warning!  All  trespassers  will  be  dealt 
with  to  the  full  extent  of  the  law ' — and  much 
more  to  similar  effect?  And  do  you  know  what  a 
very  dreadful  thing  it  is  to  be  dealt  with  to  the 
full  extent  of  the  law?" 

"  But — I  am  not — not  trespassing,"  she  said. 
"  Can  you  not  remember  ?  " 

"  I'm  afraid  I  can't,"  he  replied,  smiling ;  "  I'm 
afraid  I  have  a  clear  case  against  you.  The  doc 
tor  warned  me  that  trespassers  were  about." 

"  Did  he  know  you  were  coming  here  ?  "  she 
asked  incredulously. 

"  He  did.  And  I'm  afraid  somebody  has  been 
caught  m  flagrant  delit  \  What  do  you  think  ?  " 

He  stood  there,  amused,  curiously  noting  the 
play  of  emotions  over  her  delicate  features.  Con 
sternation,  dismay,  had  given  place  to  quick  re 
sentment  ;  that  in  turn  died  out,  leaving  something 
of  comprehension  in  her  perplexed  face. 

"  So  he  sent  you  to  catch  a  trespasser?  "  she 
said. 

185 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

"  I  was  coming  to  fish.  Well,  yes ;  he  said  I 
might  find  one." 

"  A  trespasser  ?  A  stranger  ?  "  She  hesitated ; 
there  was  hurt  astonishment  in  her  voice.  Sud 
denly  her  face  took  a  deeper  flush,  as  though 
she  had  come  to  an  unexpected  decision;  her  en 
tire  manner  changed  to  serene  self-possession. 
"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  me?  "  she  asked 
curiously. 

"  I'm  afraid  I  can't  put  you  in  jail,"  he  ad 
mitted.  "  You  see,  there's  no  punishment  for 
swimming  in  favorite  trout  pools  and  spoiling  a 
man's  morning  sport.  Now,  if  you  had  only 
thought  of  catching  one  of  my  trout  I  could  ar 
range  to  have  you  imprisoned." 

"  Please  arrange  it  immediately,  then,"  she  said, 
lifting  an  enormous  trout  from  the  canoe  and 
holding  it  up  by  the  gills  with  both  hands. 

"  Good  Lord,"  he  gasped,  "  it's  the  big  one !  " 
And  he  sat  down  suddenly  on  a  log. 

Her  smiling  defiance  softened  a  trifle.  "  Did 
you  really  wish  to  catch  this  fish  very  much  ?  "  she 
asked.  "  I — I  never  supposed  you  would  come 
here — to-day." 

"  The  enormity  of  your  crime  stuns  me,"  he 
said.  "  First  you  invade  my  domain,  then  you 
abstract  my  canoe,  then  you  swim  in  my  favorite 
186 


THE   GOLDEN   POOL 


pool,  then  you  catch  the  biggest  fish  that  ever 
came  out  of  it." 

"  No,"  she  said,  "  I  was  not  such  a  goose  as  to 
swim  first.  I  caught  the  fish  first." 

"  Recount  to  me  the  battle,"  he  said  with  a 
groan.  "  Fish  like  that  only  rise  once  in  a  life 
time.  Tell  me  how  you — but  that's  useless.  It 
was  the  usual  case  of  a  twig  and  a  bent  pin,  I 
suppose?  " 

She  smiled  uncertainly,  and  lifted  a  rod  from 
the  canoe. 

"  By  Jove,  that  looks  like  one  of  my  rods ! "  he 
exclaimed.  "  Where  did  you  get  it  ?  " 

Her  eyes  were  bright  with  excitement ;  she  shook 
her  head,  laughing. 

"  Are  you  in  league  with  my  doctor?  Who  are 
you  ?  "  he  insisted. 

"  Only  a  poacher,"  she  admitted.  "  I  creep 
about  and  lurk  outside  windows  where  doctors  talk 
in  loud  voices  about  big  trout  they  have  seen. 
Then — I  go  and  catch  them." 

They  were  both  laughing  now;  she  standing 
beside  the  canoe,  rod  in  hand,  he  balanced  on  a 
rock  opposite. 

Yet,  even  while  laughing,  his  thin  face  sobered, 
darkening  as  though  a  gray  shadow  had  crept 
across  it. 

187 


THE  TREE  OF  HEAVEN 

"  Are  you  a  neighbor  of  mine?  "  he  asked.  "  If 
you  are,  you  will  know  why  I  ask  it.  If  you  are 
not,  never  mind,"  he  added  wearily. 

She  shook  her  head.    His  face  cleared. 

"  I  thought  you  were  not  a  neighbor ;  I  was 
certain  that  I  had  never  seen  you — as  certain  as 
a  man  can  be  awakening  from — from  illness,  with 
his  mind — his  memory — shaky — almost  blank." 
He  bent  his  head,  gazing  into  the  water.  Then 
he  looked  up.  "  You  know  the  doctor  ?  I  think 
I  saw  you  on  the  lawn  this  morning." 

"  Are  you  sure  you  have  never  before  seen  me?  " 
she  asked,  with  a  ghost  of  a  smile. 

"  I  thought  at  first — for  an  instant — the  canoe 
on  the  rock,  and  the  sunshine,  and  you — "  He 
fell  silent,  groping  through  the  darkened  corridors 
of  thought  for  the  key  to  memory. 

In  the  sunlit  hush  a  rippling  noise  sounded  far 
out  across  the  pool;  then  up  out  of  the  glassy 
water  shot  a  sinuous  shape,  dark  against  the  sun 
— a  fish  in  silhouette,  curving  over  with  a  flapping 
splash.  Widening  circles  spread  from  a  center 
where  a  few  bubbles  floated;  the  pool  became 
placid  once  more — a  mirror  for  the  tapestry  of 
golden  thickets  set  with  the  heavenly  hue  above. 

The  long-dormant  passion  which  sleeps  but 
never  dies  awoke  in  him;  the  flush  on  his  lean 
188 


THE   GOLDEN   POOL 


cheeks  deepened  as  he  turned  and  looked  across 
the  pool  where  the  pretty  intruder  stood  watching 
him,  an  eager  question  dancing  in  her  eyes. 

"  I'd  like  to  try,"  he  said.    "  Do  you  mind?  " 

"  Tell  me  what  to  do." 

"  Paddle  very  quietly  over  here — very  carefully 
and  without  a  splash.  Can  you  do  it  ?  " 

She  loosened  the  canoe  noiselessly,  a  lithe  figure 
in  her  wet  brown  skirt  and  stockings.  The  mellow 
glow  enveloped  her  as  she  moved  into  the  shadows ; 
and  she  seemed,  in  the  soft  forest  light,  part  of 
the  woodland  harmony,  blending  with  it  as  tawny- 
tinted  shadows  blend. 

The  canoe  slipped  into  the  pool;  she  knelt  in 
the  stern;  then,  with  one  silent  push,  sent  it  like 
an  arrow  across  the  water.  He  caught  and  stead 
ied  the  frail  craft ;  she  stepped  from  it  and  sprang 
without  a  sound  into  the  green  shadows  beside  him. 

He  was  muttering  to  himself :  "  I've  forgotten 
some  things — but  not  how  to  throw  a  fly,  I  think. 
Let  us  see — let  us  see." 

She  stood  motionless  as  he  embarked,  watching 
him  raise  his  rod  and  send  the  tiny  brightly 
colored  flies  out  over  the  water.  The  delicate 
accuracy  seemed  to  fascinate  her;  her  dark  eyes 
followed  the  long  upward  loop  of  the  back  cast, 
the  whistling  flight  of  the  silken  line,  the  instant's 
189 


THE    TREE   OF  HEAVEN 

suspense  as  the  leader  curved,  straightened  out, 
and  fell,  dropping  three  flies  softly  on  the  still 
surface  of  the  pool. 

As  the  canoe  drifted  nearer,  nearer  to  the  spot 
where  the  trout  had  leaped,  the  sharp  dry  click  of 
the  reel,  the  windlike  whistle  of  the  line,  grew 
fainter.  Suddenly,  far  ahead  of  the  floating  flies, 
a  dark  lump  broke  the  water ;  there  came  a  spatter 
of  spray,  a  flash  of  pink  and  silver,  and  that  was 
all — all,  though  for  two  hours  the  silken  line 
darted  out  across  the  water,  and  many  feathered 
flies  of  many  hues  fell  vainly  across  the  glassy 
mirror  of  the  Golden  Pool. 

She  was  still  standing  in  the  same  place  when 
he  returned.  He  drew  a  long  deep  breath  of  dis 
appointment  as  he  stepped  ashore,  and  she  echoed 
his  sigh.  The  tension  had  ended. 

"  Showed  color,  but  wouldn't  fight,"  he  said  in 
a  low  voice.  "  Biggest  trout  I  ever  saw." 

"  Can't  you  possibly  do  something?  "  she  asked 
tremulously. 

"  Not  now ;  I  must  rest  him.  You  can't  force 
a  fish  like  that  by  persistent  worry.  There's  a 
chance  he  may  come  again ;  he's  not  serious  yet. 
I  dare  not  bother  him  for  an  hour  or  two." 

He  looked  into  her  sensitive  face;  then,  sud- 
190 


THE   GOLDEN  POOL 


denly  conscious   of  its   youthful  beauty,   he  fell 
silent,  reeling  in  his  wet  line  inch  by  inch. 

Through  the  heated  stillness  dragon  flies 
darted ;  the  mounting  perfume  of  brake  and  fern, 
the  almost  imperceptible  odor  of  earth  and  water, 
seemed  to  envelop  him  in  a  delicate  spell,  sooth 
ing,  healing,  while  pulseless  moments  drifted  away 
in  the  smooth  flow  of  a  summer  hour. 

The  rod  slipped  from  his  hand ;  his  musing  eyes 
rested  on  her.  She  was  seated  on  a  mossy  log, 
head  bent,  slender  stockinged  feet  trailing  in  the 
pool. 

"  All  this  has  happened  before,"  he  said  quietly. 
But  there  was  no  conviction  in  his  voice. 

She  raised  her  dreamy  eyes,  the  color  came  and 
went  in  throat  and  cheeks;  through  her  half- 
parted  lips  the  breath  scarcely  stirred. 

He  rose  with  a  restless  laugh,  and  stood  a  mo 
ment,  his  thin  hand  pressed  across  his  forehead. 
Her  eyes  fell,  were  lifted  to  his,  then  fell  again. 

"  Can't  you  help  me  ?  "  he  said  wistfully. 

"  Can  you  not  remember  ?  "  she  breathed. 

"  Then  we — we  have  known  one  another.  Have 
we?" 

"  I  once  knew  a  friend  of  yours — a  close  friend 
— named  Escourt." 

"  Escourt,"  he  repeated  blankly. 
191 


THE   TREE   OF  HEAVEN 

And  after  a  long  silence  he  turned  away  with 
a  gesture  that  seemed  to  frighten  her.  But  into 
her  face  came  a  flash  of  determination,  reddening 
her  cheeks  again. 

"  It  does  not  matter,"  she  said ;  "  nothing  mat 
ters  on  a  summer  day  like  this.  ...  I  did  not 
mean  to  trouble  you." 

He  turned  in  his  steps  and  stood  looking  at  her. 

"  You  say  my  friend's  name  was  Escourt  ?  Is 
my  friend  dead  ?  " 

"  Please  don't  let  it  matter." 

"  It  does  matter.  I — it  is  a  fancy,  perhaps, 
but  the  name  of  Escourt  was  once  familiar — and 
pleasant.  It  is  not  your  name,  is  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  said. 

At  last  he  began  fretfully:  "That  is  the 
strangest  thing  in  the  world.  I  have  never  before 
seen  you,  and  yet  I  am  perfectly  conscious  that 
your  name  has  haunted  me  for  years.  Escourt — 
Escourt ! — for  years,  I  tell  you,"  he  went  on  in 
a  sort  of  impatient  astonishment ;  "  ever  since  I 
can  remember  anything  I  can  remember  that 
name." 

"  And  my  first  name?  "  Flushed,  voice  scarcely 
steady,  she  avoided  his  troubled  gaze. 

And  as  he  did  not  answer,  she  said :  "  You  once 
knew  my  husband.     Can  you  not  remember?  " 
192 


THE   GOLDEN   POOL 


He  shook  his  head,  studying  her  intently. 

"  No,"  he  said  in  a  dull  voice,  "  I  have  forgot 
ten  ;  I  have  been  very  ill.  The  name  troubles  me ; 
it  is  strange  how  the  name  troubles  me." 

"  If  it  troubles  you,  let  us  talk  of  other  things, 
will  you  ?  "  she  asked,  almost  timidly.  "  I  did 
not  think  to  awaken  the  memory  of  anything 
sad." 

"  It  is  not  sad,"  resting  his  sunken,  perplexed 
eyes  on  her ;  "  it  is  something  intimate — almost 
part  of  my  life  that  I  seem  to  have  forgotten — " 
His  hand  sought  the  same  spot  over  his  right  eye. 
"  What  were  we  doing  when  you  interrupted  every 
thing  ?  "  His  wandering  glance  fell  on  the  canoe 
and  the  rod  lying  in  the  bottom,  and  his  face 
cleared. 

"  I  ought  to  be  worrying  that  trout  again,"  he 
said.  "  You  won't  go  away,  will  you  ?  " 

"  No ;  but  I  wish  you  would  go,"  she  said,  laugh 
ing  ;  "  I'd  dress  if  you  would  give  me  half  an 
hour." 

"You  won't  go — you  will  wait?"  he  repeated 
almost  childishly. 

"  Yes,  I  will  wait." 

She  shook  her  head,  watching  him  embark; 
standing  there  looking  out  across  the  water  where 
the  paddle  bubbles  marked  his  course  long  after 
193 


THE   TREE   OF  HEAVEN 

the  canoe  had  vanished  around  the  curved  shore  of 
the  Golden  Pool. 

Suddenly  her  eyes  filled;  but  she  set  her  lips 
resolutely,  groping  with  white  hands  for  her 
knotted  hair;  the  heavy  shining  twist,  loosened, 
fell,  veiling  face  and  shoulders — a  golden  mask  for 
sorrow  and  falling  tears. 

It  was  high  noon  when  his  far  hail  brought  her 
to  the  water's  edge,  and  she  answered  with  a  clear, 
prettily  modulated  call. 

"  Do  you  observe?  "  she  asked,  as  he  climbed 
the  bank;  and  she  made  a  little  gesture  of  invita 
tion  toward  a  white  napkin  spread  upon  the  moss. 

A  jug  of  milk,  lettuce,  bread,  and  a  great  bunch 
of  hothouse  grapes — and  a  hostess  in  a  summer 
gown,  smiling  an  invitation ;  what  wonder  that  the 
haggard  lines  in  his  visage  softened  till  something 
of  the  afterglow  of  youth  lay  like  a  ray  of  sun 
across  his  face. 

66  This  is  perfectly  charming,"  he  said,  drop 
ping  to  his  knees  beside  her.  "  I — I  am  very 
happy  that  you  waited  for  me." 

She  sat  silent  for  a  moment,  with  lowered  eyes, 
then  raised  them  shyly.  "  Let  us  eat  bread  and 
salt  together,  will  you? — that  nothing  break  our 
friendship." 

194 


THE   GOLDEN  POOL 


"  From  your  hands,"  he  said. 

She  leaned  over,  took  a  tiny  pinch  of  salt  be 
tween  her  thumb  and  forefinger,  and  offered  it  to 
him  on  a  bit  of  bread.  He  gravely  broke  the 
bread,  returned  half  to  her,  and  they  ate,  watch 
ing  one  another  in  silence. 

"  By  the  bread  and  salt  I  have  shared  with 
you,"  he  said,  half  seriously,  half  smiling,  "  I 
promise  to  cherish  this  forest  friendship.  Let  this 
day  begin  it." 

"  Let  it,"  she  said. 

"  Let  pleasant  years  continue  it.59 

66  Yes — the  coming  years.     So  be  it.55 

"  Let  nothing  end  it — nothing — not  even " 

"  Nothing — and,  amen,"  she  said  faintly. 

Again,  unbidden,  the  ghosts  of  the  past  stirred, 
whispering  together  within  him ;  echoes  of  unquiet 
days  awoke,  blind  consciousness  of  that  somber 
year  where  darkness  dwelt,  where  memory  lay 
slain  forever. 

She  sat  watching  him  there  on  the  moss,  sup 
porting  her  weight  on  one  arm. 

"  I  am  striving,"  he  said,  "  to  trace  my 
thoughts."  There  was  dull  apology  in  his  voice. 
"  All  this  is  not  accident — you  and  I  here  to 
gether.  I  am  haunted  by  something  long  forgot 
ten,  something  that  I  am  almost  conscious  of. 
195 


THE   TREE   OF  HEAVEN 

When  your  voice  sounds  I  seem  to  be  quivering 
on  the  verge  of  memory.  .  .  .  Do  you  know  what 
it  is  I  have  forgotten  ?  " 

She  trembled  to  her  lips.  "  Have  you  for 
gotten?" 

"  Yes — a  great  deal.  Is  it  you  I  have  forgot 
ten?" 

"  Try  to  remember,"  she  said  under  her  breath. 

"  Remember  ?  God  knows  I  am  trying.  Begin 
with  me,  will  you  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  let  us  begin  together.    You  were  hurt." 

"  Yes,  I  was  hurt." 

"  In  a  battle." 

"  I  was  hurt  in  a  skirmish." 

"  Where  ?  "  she  whispered. 

"  Why,  on  the  Subig,"  he  answered,  surprised ; 
"  I  was  in  the  Philippine  scouts." 

He  sat  bolt  upright,  electrified,  and  struck  his 
knee  sharply  with  the  flat  of  his  wasted  hand. 

"  Do  you  know,"  he  said  excitedly,  "  that  until 
this  very  instant  I  have  not  thought  of  the  Philip 
pine  scouts.  Isn't  that  extraordinary  ?  " 

She  strove  to  speak;  her  breast  rose  and  fell, 
and  she  closed  her  lips  convulsively. 

He  sat  there,  head  drooping,  passing  his  hand 
repeatedly  across  the  scar  over  his  right  temple. 

She  waited,  whitening  under  the  tension.  His 
196 


THE   GOLDEN   POOL 


face  became  placid;  he  looked  up  at  her;  and  a 
smile  touched  her  wet  lashes  in  response. 

The  contentment  of  convalescence  seemed  to 
banish  his  restlessness ;  her  voice  broke  the  silence, 
and  its  low,  even  tones  satisfied  the  half -aroused 
longing  for  dead  echoes. 

So  the  ghost  of  happiness  arose  and  sat  between 
them;  and  she  lay  back,  resting  against  a  tree, 
smiling  replies  to  his  lazy  badinage.  And  after 
a  long  while  her  laughter  awoke  to  echo  his,  laugh 
ter  as  delicate  as  the  breeze  stirring  her  bright 
hair. 

And  afterward,  long  afterward,  when  the  sun 
shine  painted  orange  patches  on  the  westward  tree 
trunks  and  a  haze  veiled  the  taller  spires,  she  re 
minded  him  of  the  great  trout;  but  he  would  not 
go  without  her ;  so  together  they  descended  to  the 
stream's  edge. 

Floating  in  the  canoe  there  through  the  mellow 
light,  he  remembered  that  he  had  left  his  rod 
ashore,  but  would  not  go  back,  and  she  laughed 
outright,  through  the  thread  of  the  song  she  had 
been  humming: 

"  Fate  is  a  dragon, 

Faith  the  slim  shape  that  braves  it : 
Hope  holds  the  stirrup-cup — 
Drain  it  who  craves  it .' " 

197 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

She  smiled,  singing  carelessly: 

"  Who  art  thou,  young  and  brave  ? 

La  vie  est  un  sommeil ;  V amour  en  est  le  reve  !  " 

"  There  is  more,"  he  said,  watching  her  intently. 
"  How  do  you  know  ?  " 

"  I  know  that  song.  /  remember  it,  and  there 
is  more  to  it!  " 

"  Is  it  this,  then  ?  "  and  she  sang  again : 

"  Life  is  but  slumber, 

Love  the  sad  dream  that  haunts  it, 
Death  is  thy  waking  gift ; 
Take  it  who  wants  it ! 

tc  Who  art  thou,  young  and  brave  ? 
La  vie  est  un  sommeil ;  I 'amour  en  est  le  reve  !  " 

He  sat  for  a  long  while,  very  still,  head  buried 
in  his  hands.  A  violet  mist  veiled  water  and 
trees ;  through  it  the  setting  sun  sent  fiery  shafts 
through  the  mountain  cleft.  And  when  the  last 
crimson  shaft  was  sped  and  tree  and  water  faded 
into  darker  harmony,  the  canoe  had  drifted  far 
downstream,  and  now  lay  still  in  the  shoreward 
sands;  and  they  stood  together  on  the  water's 
edge. 

Her  fingers  had  become  interlocked  with  his ; 
she  half  withdrew  them,  eyes  lowered. 
198 


THE   GOLDEN  POOL 


"  It  is  strange  that  our  names  should  be  the 
same,"  he  said. 

"Is  your  name  Escourt,  too?"  she  faltered. 

"  Yes ;  I  know  it  now.  ...  I  have  been  ill — 
very  ill.  God  alone  knows  what  my  hurt  has  done 
to  me.  There  is  a  doctor  at  the  house;  he's  been 
with  me  for  a  long  time — a  long  time.  I — I  won 
der  why?  I  wonder  if  it  was  because  I  had  for 
gotten — even  my  own  name.  .  .  .  Who  are  you 
who  bear  my  name  ?  " 

She  swayed  almost  imperceptibly  where  she 
stood;  he  lifted  both  her  hands  and  laid  them 
against  his  lips,  looking  deep  into  her  eyes. 

"  Who  are  you,  bearing  my  name  ?  "  he  whis 
pered.  "  Unclose  your  eyes." 

In  the  twilight  her  dark  eyes  opened ;  she  was  in 
his  arms  now,  her  head  fallen  a  little  backward, 
yielding  to  his  embrace  crushing  her. 

"  Try — try  to  remember — before  you  kiss  me," 
she  breathed.  "  I  wish  you  to  love  me — I  desire 
it — but  not  like  this.  Oh,  try  to  remember  before 
— before  it  is  too  late !  " 

"  I  do  remember !— Helen !  Helen !  " 

Her  lips  on  his  stifled  the  cry;  a  long  sigh,  a 
sob,  and  she  lay  quivering  in  her  husband's  arms. 


14  199 


CHAPTER    VIII 

OUT    OF    THE    DEPTHS 

DUST  and  wind  had  subsided;  there  seemed  to 
be  a  hint  of  rain  in  the  starless  west. 

Because  the  August  evening  had  become  op 
pressive,  the  club  windows  stood  wide  open  as 
though  gaping  for  the  outer  air.  Rugs  and  cur 
tains  had  been  removed;  an  incandescent  light  or 
two  accentuated  the  emptiness  of  the  rooms ;  here 
and  there  shadowy  servants  prowled,  gilt  buttons 
sparkling  through  the  obscurity,  their  footsteps 
on  the  bare  floor  intensifying  the  heavy  quiet. 

Into  this  week's-end  void  wandered  young  Shan 
non,  drifting  aimlessly  from  library  to  corridor, 
finally  entering  the  long  room  where  the  portraits 
of  dead  governors  smirked  through  the  windows 
at  the  deserted  avenue. 

As   his   steps    echoed   on   the    rugless    floor,   a 
shadowy  something  detached  itself  from  the  depths 
of  a  padded  armchair  by  the  corner  window,  and 
a  voice  he  recognized  greeted  him  by  name. 
200 


OUT   OF    THE   DEPTHS 

"  You  here,  Harrod !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Thought 
you  were  at  Bar  Harbor." 

"  I  was.    I  had  business  in  town." 

"  Do  you  stay  here  long?  " 

"  Not  long,"  said  Harrod  slowly. 

Shannon  dropped  into  a  chair  with  a  yawn 
which  ended  in  a  groan. 

"  Of  all  God-forsaken  places,"  he  began,  "  a 
New  York  club  in  August." 

Harrod  touched  an  electric  button,  but  no  serv 
ant  answered  the  call;  and  presently  Shannon, 
sprawling  in  his  chair,  jabbed  the  button  with  the 
ferrule  of  his  walking  stick,  and  a  servant  took 
the  order,  repeating  as  though  he  had  not  under 
stood:  "Did  you  say  two,  sir?" 

"  With  olives,  dry,"  nodded  Shannon  irritably. 
They  sat  there  in  silence  until  the  tinkle  of  ice 
aroused  them,  and 

"  Double  luck  to  you,"  muttered  Shannon ;  then, 
with  a  scarcely  audible  sigh :  "  Bring  two  more 
and  bring  a  dinner  card."  And,  turning  to  the 
older  man:  "You're  dining,  Harrod?" 

"  If  you  like." 

A  servant  came  and  turned  on  an  electric  jet; 
Shannon  scanned  the  card  under  the  pale  radi 
ance,  scribbled  on  the  pad,  and  handed  it  to  the 
servant. 

201 


THE   TREE   OF  HEAVEN 

"  Did  you  put  down  my  name  ?  "  asked  Harrod 
curiously. 

"  No ;  you'll  dine  with  me — if  you  don't  mind." 

"  I  don't  mind — for  this  last  time." 

"  Going  away  again  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

Shannon  signed  the  blank  and  glanced  up  at  his 
friend.  "  Are  you  well  ?  "  he  asked  abruptly. 

Harrod,  lying  deep  in  his  leather  chair,  nodded. 

"  Oh,  you're  rather  white  around  the  gills  1 
We'll  have  another." 

"  I  thought  you  had  cut  that  out,  Shannon." 

"Cut  what  out?" 

"  Drinking." 

"  Well,  I  haven't,"  said  Shannon  sulkily,  lift 
ing  his  glass  and  throwing  one  knee  over  the 
other. 

"  The  last  time  I  saw  you,  you  said  you  would 
cut  it,"  observed  Harrod. 

"Well,  what  of  it?" 

"But  you  haven't?" 

"  No,  my  friend." 

"Can't  you  stop?" 

"  I  could — now.  To-morrow — I  don't  know ; 
but  I  know  well  enough  I  couldn't  day  after  to 
morrow.  And  day  after  to-morrow  I  shall  not 


202 


OUT  OF   THE   DEPTHS 

A  short  silence  and  Harrod  said :  "  That's  why 
I  came  back  here." 

"What?" 

"  To  stop  you." 

Shannon  regarded  him  in  sullen  amazement. 

A  servant  announcing  dinner  brought  them  to 
their  feet;  together  they  walked  out  into  the 
empty  dining  room  and  seated  themselves  by  an 
open  window. 

Presently  Shannon  looked  up  with  an  impatient 
laugh. 

"  For  Heaven's  sake  let's  be  cheerful,  Harrod. 
If  you  knew  how  the  damned  town  had  got  on  my 
nerves." 

"  That's  what  I  came  back  for,  too,"  said  Har 
rod  with  his  strange  white  smile.  "  I  knew  the 
world  was  fighting  you  to  the  ropes." 

"  It  is ;  here  I  stay  on,  day  after  day,  on  the 
faint  chance  of  something  doing."  He  shrugged 
his  shoulders.  "  Business  is  worse  than  dead ;  I 
can't  hold  on  much  longer.  You're  right;  the 
world  has  hammered  me  to  the  ropes,  and  it  will 
be  down  and  out  for  me  unless " 

"  Unless  you  can  borrow  on  your  own  terms?  " 

"  Yes,  but  I  can't." 

"  You  are  mistaken." 

"  Mistaken?    Who  will " 

203 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

"  I  will." 

"  You !  Why,  man,  do  you  know  how  much  I 
need?  Do  you  know  for  how  long  I  shall  need 
it?  Do  you  know  what  the  chances  are  of  my 
making  good?  You!  Why,  Harrod,  I'd  swamp 
you!  You  can't  afford " 

"  I  can  afford  anything — now." 

Shannon  stared.  "  You  have  struck  some 
thing?" 

"  Something  that  puts  me  beyond  want."  He 
fumbled  in  his  breast  pocket,  drew  out  a  portfolio, 
and  from  the  flat  leather  case  he  produced  a  num 
bered  check  bearing  his  signature,  but  not  filled 
out. 

"  Tell  them  to  bring  pen  and  ink,"  he  said. 

Shannon,  perplexed,  signed  to  a  waiter.  When 
the  ink  was  brought,  Harrod  motioned  Shannon 
to  take  the  pen.  "  Before  I  went  to  Bar  Harbor," 
he  said,  "  I  had  a  certain  sum — "  He  hesitated, 
mentioned  the  sum  in  a  low  voice,  and  asked  Shan 
non  to  fill  in  the  check  for  that  amount.  "  Now 
blot  it,  pocket  it,  and  use  it,"  he  added  listlessly, 
looking  out  into  the  lamp-lighted  street. 

Shannon,  whiter  than  his  friend,  stared  at  the 
bit  of  perforated  yellow  paper. 

"  I  can't  take  it,"  he  stammered ;  "  my  security 

is  rotten,  I  tell  you " 

204 


OUT   OF   THE   DEPTHS 

"  I  want  no  security ;  I — I  am  beyond  want," 
said  Harrod.  "  Take  it ;  I  came  back  here  for 
this — partly  for  this." 

"  Came  back  here  to — to — help  me !  " 

"  To  help  you.  Shannon,  I  had  been  a  lonely 
man  in  life;  I  think  you  never  realized  how  much 
your  friendship  has  been  to  me.  I  had  nobody — 
no  intimacies.  You  never  understood — you  with 
all  your  friends — that  I  cared  more  for  our 
casual  companionship  than  for  anything  in  the 
world." 

Shannon  bent  his  head.  "  I  did  not  know  it," 
he  said. 

Harrod  raised  his  eyes  and  looked  up  at  the 
starless  sky;  Shannon  ate  in  silence;  into  his 
young  face,  already  marred  by  dissipation,  a 
strange  light  had  come.  And  little  by  little  order 
began  to  emerge  from  his  whirling  senses ;  he  saw 
across  an  abyss  a  bridge  glittering,  and  beyond 
that,  beckoning  to  him  through  a  white  glory,  all 
that  his  heart  desired. 

"  I  was  at  the  ropes,"  he  muttered ;  "  how  could 
you  know  it,  Harrod?  I — I  never  whined " 

"  I  know  more  than  I  did — yesterday,"  said 
Harrod,  resting  his  pale  face  on  one  thin  hand. 

Shannon,  nerves  on  edge,  all  aquiver,  the  blood 
racing  through  every  vein,  began  to  speak  ex- 
205 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

citedly :  "  It's  like  a  dream — one  of  the  blessed 
sort — Harrod!  Harrod! — the  dreams  I've  had 
this  last  year !  And  I  try — I  try  to  understand 
what  has  happened — what  you  have  done  for  me. 
I  can't — I'm  shaking  all  over,  and  I  suppose  I'm 
sitting  here  eating  and  drinking,  but- ' 

He  touched  his  glass  blindly ;  it  tipped  and 
crashed  to  the  floor,  the  breaking  froth  of  the 
wine  hissing  on  the  cloth. 

"  Harrod !  Harrod !  What  sort  of  a  man  am 
I  to  deserve  this  of  you?  What  can  I  do " 

"  Keep  your  nerve — for  one  thing." 

"  I  will ! — you  mean  that  \  "  touching  the  stem 
of  the  new  glass,  which  the  waiter  had  brought 
and  was  filling.  He  struck  the  glass  till  it  rang 
out  a  clear,  thrilling,  crystalline  note,  then  struck 
it  more  sharply.  It  splintered  with  a  soft  splash 
ing  crash.  "  Is  that  all?  "  he  laughed. 

"  No,  not  all." 

"  What  more  will  you  let  me  do?  " 

"  One  thing  more.  Tell  them  to  serve  coffee 
below." 

So  they  passed  out  of  the  dining  room,  through 
the  deserted  corridors,  and  descended  the  stairway 
to  the  lounging  room.  It  was  unlighted  and 
empty;  Shannon  stepped  back  and  the  elder  man 
passed  him  and  took  the  corner  chair  by  the  win- 
206 


OUT   OF    THE   DEPTHS 

dow — the  same  seat  where  Shannon  had  first  seen 
him  sitting  ten  years  before,  and  where  he  always 
looked  to  find  him  after  the  ending  of  a  business 
day.  And  continuing  his  thoughts,  the  younger 
man  spoke  aloud  impulsively :  "  I  remember  per 
fectly  well  how  we  met.  Do  you?  You  had  just 
come  back  to  town  from  Bar  Harbor,  and  I  saw 
you  stroll  in  and  seat  yourself  in  that  corner, 
and,  because  I  was  sitting  next  you,  you  asked 
if  you  might  include  me  in  your  order — do  you 
remember?  " 

"  Yes,  I  remember." 

"  And  I  told  you  I  was  a  new  member  here,  and 
you  pointed  out  the  portraits  of  all  those  dead 
governors  of  the  club,  and  told  me  what  good  fel 
lows  they  had  been.  I  found  out  later  that  you 
yourself  were  a  governor  of  the  club." 

«  Yes— I  was." 

Harrod's  shadowy  face  swerved  toward  the  win 
dow,  his  eyes  resting  on  the  familiar  avenue,  empty 
now  save  for  the  policeman  opposite,  and  the 
ragged  children  of  the  poor.  In  August  the  high 
tide  from  the  slums  washes  Fifth  Avenue,  strand 
ing  a  gasping  flotsam  at  the  thresholds  of  the 
absent. 

"  And  I  remember,  too,  what  you  told  me,"  con 
tinued  Shannon. 

207 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

"What?"  said  Harrod,  turning  noiselessly  to 
confront  his  friend. 

"  About  that  child.  Do  you  remember  ?  That 
beautiful  child  you  saw?  Don't  you  remember 
that  you  told  me  how  she  used  to  leave  her  gov 
erness  and  talk  to  you  on  the  rocks " 

"  Yes,"  said  Harrod.  "  That ,  too,  is  why  I 
came  back  here  to  tell  you  the  rest.  For  the  evil 
days  have  come  to  her,  Shannon,  and  the  years 
draw  nigh.  Listen  to  me." 

There  was  a  silence;  Shannon,  mute  and  per 
plexed,  set  his  coffee  on  the  window  sill  and  leaned 
back,  flicking  the  ashes  from  his  cigar ;  Harrod 
passed  his  hands  slowly  over  his  hollow  temples: 
"  Her  parents  are  dead ;  she  is  not  yet  twenty ;  she 
is  not  equipped  to  support  herself  in  life ;  and — 
she  is  beautiful.  What  chance  has  she,  Shannon  ?  " 

The  other  was  silent. 

"What  chance?"  repeated  Harrod.  "And, 
when  I  tell  you  that  she  is  unsuspicious,  and  that 
she  reasons  only  with  her  heart,  answer  me — what 
chance  has  she  with  a  man?  For  you  know  men, 
and  so  do  I,  Shannon,  so  do  I." 

"Who  is  she,  Harrod?" 

"  The  victim  of  divorced  parents — awarded  to 
her  mother.  Let  her  parents  answer ;  they  are 
answering  now,  Shannon.  But  their  plea  is  no 
208 


OUT   OF    THE   DEPTHS 

concern  of  yours.  What  concerns  you  is  the  liv 
ing.  The  child,  grown  to  womanhood,  is  here, 
advertising  for  employment — here  in  New  York, 
asking  for  a  chance.  What  chance  has  she?  " 

"  When  did  you  learn  this  ?  "  asked  Shannon 
soberly. 

"  I  learned  it  to-night — everything  concerning 
her — to-night — an  hour  before  I — I  met  you. 
That  is  why  I  returned.  Shannon,  listen  to  me 
attentively ;  listen  to  every  word  I  say.  Do  you 
remember  a  passing  fancy  you  had  this  spring  for 
a  blue-eyed  girl  you  met  every  morning  on  your 
way  downtown?  Do  you  remember  that,  as  the 
days  went  on,  little  by  little  she  came  to  return 
your  glance? — then  your  smile? — then,  at  last, 
your  greeting?  And  do  you  remember,  once,  that 
you  told  me  about  it  in  a  moment  of  depression — 
told  me  that  you  were  close  to  infatuation,  that 
you  believed  her  to  be  everything  sweet  and  in 
nocent,  that  you  dared  not  drift  any  farther, 
knowing  the  chances  and  knowing  the  end — bit 
ter  unhappiness  either  way,  whether  in  guilt  or 
innocence " 

"  I  remember,"  said  Shannon  hoarsely.  "  But 
that  is  not — cannot  be " 

"  That  is  the  girl." 

"  Not  the  child  you  told  me  of " 

209 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

"  Yes." 

"  How — when  did  you  know " 

"  To-night.  I  know  more  than  that,  Shannon. 
You  will  learn  it  later.  Now  ask  me  again,  what 
it  is  that  you  may  do." 

"  I  ask  it,"  said  Shannon  under  his  breath. 
"What  am  I  to  do?" 

For  a  long  while  Harrod  sat  silent,  staring  out 
of  the  dark  window ;  then,  "  It  is  time  for  us 
to  go." 

"You  wish  to  go  out?" 

"  Yes ;  we  will  walk  together  for  a  little  while — 
as  we  did  in  the  old  days,  Shannon — only  a  little 
while,  for  I  must  be  going  back." 

"  Where  are  you  going,  Harrod?  " 

But  the  elder  man  had  already  risen  and  moved 
toward  the  door;  and  Shannon  picked  up  his  hat 
and  followed  him  out  across  the  dusky  lamp- 
lighted  street. 

Into  the  avenue  they  passed  under  the  white, 
unsteady  radiance  of  arc  lights  which  drooped  like 
huge  lilies  from  stalks  of  bronze;  here  and  there 
the  front  of  some  hotel  lifted  like  a  cliff,  its  win 
dow-pierced  fa9ade  pulsating  with  yellow  light,  or 
a  white  marble  mass,  cold  and  burned  out,  spread 
a  sea  of  shadow  over  the  glimmering  asphalt.  At 
times  the  lighted  lamps  of  cabs  flashed  in  their 
210 


OUT   OF    THE   DEPTHS 

faces ;  at  times  figures  passed  like  spectres ;  but 
into  the  street  where  they  were  now  turning  were 
neither  lamps  nor  people  nor  sound,  nor  any  light, 
save,  far  in  the  obscure  vista,  a  dull  hint  of  light 
ning  edging  the  west. 

Twice  Shannon  had  stopped,  peering  at  Har- 
rod,  who  neither  halted  nor  slackened  his  steady, 
noiseless  pace;  and  the  younger  man,  hesitating, 
moved  on  again,  quickening  his  steps  to  his 
friend's  side. 

"Where  are — are  you  going?" 

"  Do  you  not  know?  " 

The  color  died  out  of  Shannon's  face ;  he  spoke 
again,  forming  his  words  slowly  with  dry  lips: 

"  Harrod,  why — why  do  you  come  into  this 
street — to-night?  What  do  you  know?  How  do 
you  know?  I  tell  you  I — I  cannot  endure  this — 
this  tension ' 

"  She  is  enduring  it." 

"Good  God!" 

"  Yes,  God  is  good,"  said  Harrod,  turning  his 
haggard  face  as  they  halted.  "  Answer  me,  Shan 
non,  where  are  we  going?  " 

"  To— her.     You  know  it !     Harrod !  Harrod ! 

How  did  you  know?     I — I  did  not  know  myself 

until  an  hour  before  I  met  you ;  I  had  not  seen  her 

in  weeks — I  had  not  dared  to — for  all  trust  in  self 

211 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

was  dead.  To-day,  downtown,  I  faced  the  crash 
and  saw  across  to-morrow  the  end  of  all.  Then, 
in  my  journey  hellward  to-night,  just  at  dusk,  we 
passed  each  other,  and  before  I  understood  what 
I  had  done  we  were  side  by  side.  And  almost  in 
stantly — I  don't  know  how — she  seemed  to  sense 
the  ruin  before  us  both — for  mine  was  heavy  on 
my  soul,  Harrod,  as  I  stood,  measuring  damnation 
with  smiling  eyes — at  the  brink  of  it,  there.  And 
she  knew  I  was  adrift  at  last." 

He  looked  up  at  the  house  before  him.  "  I  said 
I  would  come.  She  neither  assented  nor  denied 
me,  nor  asked  a  question.  But  in  her  eyes,  Har 
rod,  I  saw  what  one  sees  in  the  eyes  of  children, 
and  it  stunned  me.  .  .  .  What  shall  I  do  ?  " 

"  Go  to  her  and  look  again,"  said  Harrod. 
"  That  is  what  I  have  come  back  to  ask  of  you. 
Good-by." 

He  turned,  his  shadowy  face  drooping,  and 
Shannon  followed  to  the  avenue.  There,  in  the 
white  outbreak  of  electric  lamps,  he  saw  Harrod 
again  as  he  had  always  known  him,  a  hint  of  a 
smile  in  his  worn  eyes,  the  well-shaped  mouth 
edged  with  laughter,  and  he  was  saying :  "  It's  all 
in  a  lifetime,  Shannon — and  more  than  you  sus 
pect — much  more.  You  have  not  told  me  her 
name  yet?  " 

212 


OUT   OF    THE   DEPTHS 

"  I  do  not  know  it." 

"  Ah,  she  will  tell  you  if  you  ask !  Say  to  her 
that  I  remember  her  there  on  the  sea  rocks.  Say 
to  her  that  I  have  searched  for  her  always,  but 
that  it  was  only  to-night  I  knew  what  to-morrow 
she  shall  know — and  you,  Shannon,  you,  too,  shall 
know.  Good-by." 

"  Harrod !  wait.     Don't— don't  go " 

He  turned  and  looked  back  at  the  younger  man 
with  that  familiar  gesture  he  knew  so  well. 

It  was  final,  and  Shannon  swung  blindly  on  his 
heel  and  entered  the  street  again,  eyes  raised  to 
the  high  lighted  window  under  which  he  had  halted 
a  moment  before.  Then  he  mounted  the  steps, 
groped  in  the  vestibule  for  the  illuminated  num 
ber,  and  touched  the  electric  knob.  The  door 
swung  open  noiselessly  as  he  entered,  closing  be 
hind  him  with  a  soft  click. 

Up  he  sped,  mounting  stair  on  stair,  threading 
the  narrow  hallways,  then  upward  again,  until  of 
a  sudden  she  stood  confronting  him,  bent  forward, 
white  hands  tightening  on  the  banisters. 

Neither  spoke.  She  straightened  slowly,  fingers 
relaxing  from  the  polished  rail.  Over  her  shoul 
ders  he  saw  a  lamplighted  room,  and  she  turned 
and  looked  backward  at  the  threshold  and  covered 
her  face  with  both  hands. 
213 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

"What  is  H?"  he  whispered,  bending  close  to 
her.  "Why  do  you  tremble?  You  need  not. 
There  is  nothing  in  all  the  world  you  need  fear. 
Look  into  my  eyes.  Even  a  child  may  read  them 
now." 

Her  hands  fell  from  her  face  and  their  eyes 
met,  and  what  she  read  in  his,  and  he  in  hers,  God 
knows,  for  she  swayed  where  she  stood,  lids  clos 
ing  ;  yielding  hands  and  lips  and  throat  and  hair. 
She  cried,  too,  later,  her  hands  on  his  shoulders 
where  he  knelt  beside  her,  holding  him  at  arm's 
length  from  her  fresh  young  face  to  search  his 
for  the  menace  she  once  had  read  there.  But 
it  was  gone  —  that  menace  she  had  read  and 
vaguely  understood,  and  she  cried  a  little  more, 
one  arm  around  his  head  pressed  close  to  her 
side. 

"  From  the  very  first — the  first  moment  I  saw 
you,"  he  said  under  his  breath,  answering  the 
question  aquiver  on  her  lips — lips  divinely  merci 
ful,  repeating  the  lovers'  creed  and  the  confession 
of  faith  for  which,  perhaps,  all  souls  in  love  are 
shriven  in  the  end. 

"Naida!    Naida!" — for    he    had    learned    her 

name  and  could  not  have  enough  of  it — "  all  that 

the  world  holds   for  me  of  good  is  here,  circled 

by    my    arms.      Not    mine   the    manhood   to   win 

214 


OUT  OF   THE   DEPTHS 

out,  alone — but  there  is  a  man  who  came  to  me 
to-night  and  stood  sponsor  for  the  falling  soul 
within  me. 

"  How  he  knew  my  peril  and  yours,  God  knows. 
But  he  came  like  Fate  and  held  his  buckler  before 
me,  and  he  led  me  here  and  set  a  flaming  sword 
before  your  door — the  door  of  the  child  he  loved 
—there  on  the  sea  rocks  ten  years  ago.  Do  you 
remember?  He  said  you  would.  And  he  is  no 
archangel — this  man  among  men,  this  friend  with 
whom,  unknowing,  I  have  this  night  wrestled  face 
to  face.  His  name  is  Harrod." 

"  My  name ! "  She  stood  up  straight  and 
pale,  within  the  circle  of  his  arms ;  he  rose,  too, 
speechless,  uncertain — then  faced  her,  white  and 
appalled. 

She  said :  "  He — he  followed  us  to  Bar  Harbor. 
I  was  a  child,  I  remember.  I  hid  from  my  gov 
erness  and  talked  with  him  on  the  rocks.  Then 
we  went  away.  I — I  lost  my  father."  Staring  at 
her,  his  stiffening  lips  formed  a  word,  but  no 
sound  came. 

"  Bring  him  to  me !  "  she  whispered.  "  How 
can  he  know  I  am  here  and  stay  away!  Does  he 
think  I  have  forgotten?  Does  he  think  shame  of 
me?  Bring  him  to  me!" 

She  caught  his  hands  in  hers  and  kissed  them 
is  215 


THE   TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

passionately ;  she  framed  his  face  in  her  small 
hands  of  a  child  and  looked  deep,  deep  into  his 
eyes :  "  Oh,  the  happiness  you  have  brought !  I 
love  you !  You  with  whom  I  am  to  enter  Paradise ! 
Now  bring  him  to  me !  " 

Shaking,  amazed,  stunned  in  a  whirl  of  happi 
ness  and  doubt,  he  crept  down  the  black  stairway, 
feeling  his  way.  The  doors  swung  noiselessly ;  he 
was  almost  running  when  he  turned  into  the  ave 
nue.  The  trail  of  white  lights  starred  his  path; 
the  solitary  street  echoed  his  haste,  and  now  he 
sprang  into  the  wide  doorway  of  the  club,  and  as 
he  passed,  the  desk  clerk  leaned  forward,  handing 
him  a  telegram.  He  took  it,  halted,  breathing 
heavily,  and  asked  for  his  friend. 

"Mr.  Harrod?"  repeated  the  clerk.  "Mr. 
Harrod  has  not  been  here  in  a  month,  sir." 

"What?  I  dined  with  Mr.  Harrod  here  at 
eight  o'clock !  "  he  laughed. 

"  Sir?  I — I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  but  you 
dined  here  alone  to-night " 

"  Send  for  the  steward !  "  broke  in  Shannon  im 
patiently,  slapping  his  open  palm  with  the  yellow 
envelope.  The  steward  came,  followed  by  the  but 
ler,  and  to  a  quick  question  from  the  desk  clerk, 
replied :  "  Mr.  Harrod  has  not  been  in  the  club 
for  six  weeks." 

216 


OUT   OF    THE   DEPTHS 

"  But  I  dined  with  Mr.  Harrod  at  eight !  Wil- 
kins,  did  you  not  serve  us  ?  " 

"  I  served  you,  sir ;  you  dined  alone — "  The 
butler  hesitated,  coughed  discreetly;  and  the 
steward  added :  "  You  ordered  for  two,  sir " 

Something  in  the  steward's  troubled  face  si 
lenced  Shannon ;  the  butler  ventured :  "  Beg  par 
don,  sir,  but  we — the  waiters  thought  you  might 
be — ill,  seeing  how  you  talked  to  yourself  and 
called  for  ink  to  write  upon  the  cloth  and  broke 
two  glasses,  laughing  like " 

Shannon  staggered,  turning  a  ghastly  visage 
from  one  to  another.  Then  his  dazed  gaze  cen 
tered  upon  the  telegram  crushed  in  his  hand,  and 
shaking  from  head  to  foot,  he  smoothed  it  out 
and  opened  the  envelope. 

But  it  was  purely  a  matter  of  business ;  he  was 
requested  to  come  to  Bar  Harbor  and  identify  a 
useless  check,  drawn  to  his  order,  and  perhaps  aid 
to  identify  the  body  of  a  drowned  man  in  the 
morgue. 


217 


CHAPTER    IX 

THE    SWASTIKA 

THIS  is  rather  a  curious  story — not  nearly  as 
artistic  as  if  it  were  fiction.  Fact  seldom  is  ar 
tistic. 

One  thing  is  certain :  Hildreth  had  never  before 
heard  of  a  swastika ;  he  had  heard  of  Judge  Grey, 
one  of  the  Mixed  Tribunal,  and  he  knew  that  the 
Sarna  came  from  that  magistrate  as  a  wedding 
gift  to  his  father ;  but  he  never  for  one  moment 
connected  anything  that  ever  happened  in  the  Ori 
ent  with  his  stenographer  and  private  secretary. 
Nor  did  he  suspect — but  this  story  is  running  away 
from  me  backward. 

Reclining  in  his  uncle's  emblazoned  armchair, 
the  tips  of  his  fingers  joined,  young  Hildreth 
gazed  meditatively  at  the  ceiling  through  the 
drifting  haze  of  his  cigar.  On  the  ceiling  several 
delicately  tinted  Cupids  were  attempting  to  as 
phyxiate  one  another  with  piles  of  roses.  The 
room  and  its  furniture  also  were  gayly  ornamental 
218 


THE   SWASTIKA 


after  the  style  popularly  imputed  to  Louis  XIV, 
that  monarch  being  in  no  condition  to  deny  the 
accusation.  There  was  a  view  through  one  door 
into  a  rococo  library,  through  another  into  a  break 
fast  room,  and  through  the  windows  into  a  snow 
storm  at  Thirtieth  Street  and  Fifth  Avenue. 
However,  the  ensemble  did  not  appear  illogical  if 
you  turned  your  back  to  the  window;  besides, 
there  was  the  stenographer  to  look  at.  But  Hil- 
dreth  was  gazing  fixedly  at  the  ceiling  through 
the  stratified  mist  from  his  cigar. 

The  youthful  stenographer,  dimpled  chin  on 
hand,  drummed  softly  with  her  pencil  tip  and 
watched  him  sidewise  out  of  two  very  beautiful 
eyes.  Her  cuffs  were  as  immaculate  as  her  cool, 
white  skin;  her  head,  with  its  thick,  bright  hair, 
harmonized  with  other  pretty  things ;  and  I  do  not 
think  that  Louis  XIV  would  have  repudiated  her, 
at  any  rate. 

Hildreth  blew  ring  after  ring  of  smoke  at  the 
ceiling,  passing  his  hand,  at  intervals,  through  his 
hair,  which  was  rather  short  and  inclined  to  curl. 

"  Miss  Grey,"  he  said,  "  can't  you  think  of  any 
thing  else  that  rhymes  with  '  tin  '  ?  " 

"  Gin,  din,  thin,"  suggested  the  stenographer, 
referring  to  a  rhyming  dictionary. 

"  We've  used  '  din  '  and  '  thin  '  already  in  the 
219 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

second  verse;  don't  you  remember?  And  we  can't 
use  '  gin  '  in  any  combination  whatever ;  I've  tried 
it.  Isn't  there  anything  else  you  can  think  of?  " 

"  Sin  ?  "  she  inquired  demurely. 

"4Sin,"'  he  repeated.  "'Sin'  sounds  inter 
esting.  We  need  something  to  flavor  the  poem. 
Do  you  believe  that  you  and  I  could  make  any 
proper  use  of  '  sin  '  ?  " 

She  appeared  doubtful. 

"  Let  us  see,  anyway.  Read  what  you've  taken," 
he  said,  composing  himself  to  listen  to  his  own  lines 
with  the  modest  resignation  of  the  true  poet. 

And  the  girl  sorted  her  notes  and  read  softly: 

"  Behold  them  packed  so  snug  within 
Their  air-tight  box  of  shining  tin — 
Hildreth's  Honey  Wafers ! 

"  Ready  for  breakfast,  lunch  or  din- 
Ner ;  crisp  and  fresh  and  sweet  and  thin — 
Hildreth's  Honey  Wafers  !  " 

She  raised  her  blue  eyes,  looking  at  him  inquir 
ingly  over  the  penciled  sheets  of  manuscript. 

"  There  ought  to  be  another  verse,"  he  mused. 
"  Don't  you  think  so?  " 

"  I  think  two  verses  of  this  kind  are  sufficient, 
Mr.  Hildreth." 

"  You  are  mistaken ;  the  poem  is  still  incomplete. 
220 


THE   SWASTIKA 


The  first  verse,  you  see,  is  an  impression — a  sort 
of  word-picture  of  the  tin  box — a  kind  of  prologue 
to  prepare  people  for  what  is  inside  the  box  in  the 
second  verse.  In  the  second  I  explain  that  Hil- 
dreth's  Honey  Wafers  are  all  ready  to  eat,  and  I 
excite  people's  appetites.  Now,  the  third  verse 
must  gratify  them.  Don't  you  see?" 

"  Is  it  not  good  advertising  to  break  off 
abruptly  and  leave  the  public  hungry  ?  " 

"  No ;  that's  only  good  literature ;  but  in  ad 
vertising  you  must  not  leave  your  public  discon 
tented.  People  like  to  look  at  pictures  of  other 
people  who  are  enjoying  something  to  repletion — 
pitching  into  a  generous  trough  of  breakfast  food, 
or  pausing  to  savor  the  delicious  after-effects  of 
a  nerve  tonic.  Besides,"  he  added  moodily,  puff 
ing  his  cigar,  "  my  uncle  requires  three  verses, 
and  that  settles  it.  What  was  that  rhyme  you 
suggested  ?  " 

"  I — I  ventured  to  suggest  '  sin.' ' 

"  '  Sin,'  "  he  repeated  thoughtfully,  pinching 
his  chin  and  staring  at  the  snowy  roofs  across 
Thirtieth  Street.  "  Well,  how  would  this  do  for 
the  third  verse? 

"  They  invigorate  the  hair  and  clear  the  skin, 
And  promote  happiness  in  this  world  of  sin — 
Hildreth's  Honey  Wa— 
221 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

"  But  you  have  the  meter  all  wrong  again," 
she  expostulated.  "  You  never  pay  any  attention 
to  the  meter." 

"  Oh,  you  can  fix  that  as  you  fixed  the  other 
verses !  " 

"  Besides,  is  it  really  true  that  Hildreth's 
Honey  Wafers  do  all  those  things  ?  " 

He  began  an  elaborate  argument  to  prove  that 
falling  hair  and  poor  complexion  were  caused  by 
improper  nourishment,  and  that  the  wafers  were 
proper  nourishment ;  but  presently  his  voice  dwin 
dled  to  a  grumble.  He  relighted  his  cigar,  looking 
at  her  askance. 

"  We  might  say,"  he  resumed,  "  using  poetic 
license : 

"  Into  this  world  of  crime  and  sin 
Like  an  angel  above  was  wafted  the  box  of  tin ; 
Hildreth's  Ho— 

She  shook  her  head. 

"Why  not?"  he  asked. 

"  You  can't  compare  a  tin  box  to  an  angel 
above  —  and  you  can't  waft  a  tin  box,  you 
know " 

"  Yes,  I  can.    Poets'  license " 

"  That  is  one  of  the  troubles  with  your  verses, 
Mr.  Hildreth — there  is  so  much  license  and  so  little 

—so— little " 

222 


THE    SWASTIKA 


"  You  are  rather  rough  on  me,"  he  said,  color 
ing  up. 

"  I  don't  mean  to  be ;  I  only  try  to  help  you." 

"  I  know  it ;  you  are  very  kind — very  amiable. 
I  am  perfectly  aware  that  a  stenographer's  duties 
do  not  include  literary  criticism.  I  ought  to  be 
ashamed  to  ask  your  aid,  but  if  I  don't  have  it 
I'm  done  for." 

"  But  I  give  it  most  freely,  Mr.  Hildreth." 

"  I  know  you  do,  and  I'm  also  aware  that  I  am 
imposing  on  you  most  shamefully.  After  this 
week  we'll  let  my  verses  go  as  I  compose  them.  It 
will  probably  put  me  out  of  business,  but  I  can't 
help  that." 

"  Mr.  Hildreth,  we  simply  cannot  let  your  verses 
go  unedited." 

He  looked  at  her  for  a  moment  in  silence. 
"  Can't  you  stand  my  verses  ?  "  he  inquired.  And, 
as  she  made  no  reply :  "  If  you  can't — if  they  are 
really  as  bad  as  that,  why,  the  public  is  going  to 
recoil,  too,  and  I'll  doubtless  ruin  the  business  for 
my  uncle.  He  has  no  more  idea  of  good  poetry 
than  I  have.  I'll  ruin  him ;  and  our  rivals,  The 
Bunsen's  Baby  Biscuit  Company,  will  call  me 
blessed!" 

"  Your  uncle  writes  you  that  he  likes  the  adver 
tising  verses  you  send  him,"  she  interrupted  cheer- 
223 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

ily.  "  He  tells  you  that  the  verses  have  made  the 
wafers  worth  a  fortune." 

"  Yes,  but  you  always  have  revised  my  verses, 
and  he  doesn't  know  that.  Every  poem  I've  done 
for  the  Honey  Wafers  Company  you've  revised. 
It  is  you  who  have  made  them  sell  all  over  this 
continent.** 

"  What  of  it?  "  she  answered,  amused,  "  as  long 
as  your  uncle  is  satisfied.  I  don't  mind  the  trouble 
of  editing  your  verses — truly  I  don't."  She  rest 
ed  her  cheek  on  her  wrist,  playing  the  while  with 
her  pencil.  "  I  am  very  happy  to  do  what  I  can, 
Mr.  Hildreth.  Shall  we  try  once  more?  " 

She  seemed  to  grow  more  disturbingly  pretty 
every  day ;  he  permitted  himself  to  look  at  her  long 
enough  to  remember  that  he  had  something  else 
to  do.  "  Din,  pin,  gin,  sin,"  he  repeated  sullenly. 
"  What  the  mischief  am  I  to  write,  anyway  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  we  can  use  *  sin,'  do  you?  "  she 
asked,  lifting  her  blue  eyes. 

Perhaps  he  found  inspiration  in  them ;  he  looked 
at  them  hard;  an  inward  struggle  set  his  mouth 
in  an  uncompromising  line.  And  this  is  what  he 
evolved : 

"  Bright  as  blue  eyes  that  are  innocent  of  sin 
Is  the  box  of  tin  they're  packed  in — 
Hildreth's  Honey  W- 
224 


THE   SWASTIKA 


"  You  can't  compare  a  tin  box  to  blue  eyes,  Mr. 
Hildreth !  You  surely  must  admit  that." 

"  Tin  is  bright,  isn't  it  ?     Blue  eyes  are  bright, 

aren't  they?    Well,  if  one's  bright  and  the  others 
nrp » 

cLJ.  \J  "" ' ' 

She  shook  her  head  slowly ;  her  eyes  had  softened 
to  a  violet  tint.  He  noticed  that  phenomenon,  but 
he  did  not  know  that  he  had  noticed  it.  His  brows 
met  in  a  frown  of  intense  intellectual  concentra 
tion;  for  five  full  minutes  he  remained  rigid  in 
the  agony  of  composition,  then,  with  a  long  breath, 
he  delivered  himself  of  another  verse : 

"  Soft  as  the  color  of  blue  violets  that  grow  in 
The  woods,  is  perfume  from  the  box  of  tin ! 
Hil " 

"  Oh,  dear !  "  said  the  stenographer  with  a  sud 
den  little  indrawing  of  her  breath. 

"  If  you  want  to  laugh,"  he  said,  flushing,  "  go 
ahead.  I'm  not  sensitive." 

"  I  had  no  desire  to  laugh,  Mr.  Hildreth ;  it's 
far  beyond  a  laughing  matter." 

He  regarded  her  gloomily,  relighted  his  cigar, 
and  gazed  out  of  the  frosty  window.  After  a 
moment  a  smile  twitched  his  mouth. 

"  I  suppose  it's  not  good — that  last  idea  about 

ingrowing  violets " 

225 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

She  laughed :  she  could  not  help  it ;  he  laughed, 
too. 

"  How  long  have  we  been  working  together?  " 
he  asked,  leaning  back  in  his  chair.  He  knew,  but 
he  wanted  to  know  whether  she  knew. 

She  knew,  but  she  pretended  to  think  very  hard 
before  answering,  laying  her  pencil  thoughtfully 
across  her  lips,  immersed  in  calculation. 

"  It  must  be  nearly  a  month,  Mr.  Hil- 
dreth." 

"  Impossible ! "  he  exclaimed,  pretending  sur 
prise. 

"  Almost,"  she  insisted.  "  Let  me  see ;  I  came 
to  you  on  the  fifth " 

"  The  ninth,"  he  said  quickly.  He  was  easily 
beguiled. 

"  Was  it  the  ninth?  "  she  asked  wonderingly — 
though  what  there  was  to  wonder  at  is  not  clear, 
the  date  signalizing  nothing  in  particular  except 
the  day  they  first  laid  eyes  on  one  another.  "  I 
believe  it  was  the  ninth,  after  all.  That  would 
make  it  almost  a  month " 

"  Exactly  a  month,"  he  said  triumphantly. 
"  This  is  our  first  anniversary — and  you  didn't 
know  it !  " 

He  stopped;  he  hadn't  meant  to  use  words  of 
that    sort.      People   employ   such  expressions   for 
226 


THE   SWASTIKA 


other  matters,  not  to  commemorate  the  date  of  a 
purely  business  engagement. 

"  What  you  mean  to  say,  Mr.  Hildreth,  is  that 
I  have  been  in  your  employment  exactly  a  month," 
she  said  with  amiable  indifference. 

"  Exactly,"  he  repeated,  opening  the  inlaid 
cover  of  a  rococo  desk  and  bringing  forth  a  pack 
age.  Then  he  rose  to  his  feet  and  made  her  a  bow, 
full  of  the  charm  of  good  breeding :  "  May  I  ven 
ture  to  offer  a  little  gift  in  memory  of  the  for 
tunate  event  ?  " 

She  stood  up,  surprised,  quiet,  a  trifle  per 
plexed. 

"What  fortunate  event,  Mr.  Hildreth?" 

"  The  annivers — the — pleasant  occasion —  He 
floundered,  and  she  let  him.  It  irritated  him 
to  flounder,  for  his  intentions  were  above  re 
proach. 

"  What  I  mean  to  say  is  simple  enough,"  he 
snapped.  "  You've  practically  written  my  poems 
for  me,  and  you  didn't  have  to,  but  if  you  hadn't 
I  either  should  have  ruined  my  uncle's  business  or 
lost  my  job,  and  I'm  grateful,  and  I  wanted  to 
give  you  something  to  show  it — these  books 

She  took  them,  a  trifle  uncertain,  but  guided 
by  inherited  instinct.  She  looked  at  the  beauti 
fully  bound  and  dreadfully  expensive  volumes. 
227 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

The  constraint  lasted  only  a  second;  she  thanked 
him,  glanced  at  the  title-page,  where  he  had  writ 
ten  the  date  and  her  name,  but  not  his  own.  His 
good  taste  appealing  to  her,  she  smiled  at  him  in 
a  delightfully  friendly  fashion ;  and  the  charm  of 
the  transfiguration  so  occupied  him  that,  finding 
himself  staring,  he  neutralized  the  rudeness  by 
closing  his  eyes  with  a  wise  look  as  though  intent 
on  pursuing  elusive  rhymes  for  commercial  pur 
poses. 

She  seated  herself  at  her  little  flyaway  gilded 
desk  once  more ;  he  relapsed  into  his  chair  and  sat 
there  drumming  with  his  fingers  on  the  golden 
foliations  of  the  carved  arms. 

She  had,  instinctively,  picked  up  her  pencil  and 
pad,  ready  for  dictation  when  the  sacred  fire 
should  blaze  up  in  him.  The  fire,  however,  ap 
peared  to  be  out.  There  was  not  a  sputter. 

"  And  in  all  this  time,"  he  mused,  continuing 
his  cogitations  aloud,  "  you  have  never  asked  me 
why,  in  the  name  of  common  decency,  I  insisted  on 
trying  to  be  a  poet !  " 

As  she  made  no  reply : 

"  Have  you  ?  "  he  repeated. 

"  Of  course  I  haven't " 

"  Is  it  because  you  are  too  civil  to  hurt  a  man's 
feelings?" 

228 


THE   SWASTIKA 


"  It  is  because  I  am  employed  by  you,  Mr.  Hil- 
dreth " 

"  Because  you  are  employed  by  me  ?  Nonsense ! 
That's  no  reason  why  I  should  torture  a  cultivated 
ear  with  unspeakable  rhymes.  I  wonder,  Miss 
Grey,  what  you  really  think  of  me  ?  " 

She  could  have  told  him  thp.t  she  didn't  think 
of  him  at  all  except  in  a  business  sense,  which  would 
have  been  an  untruth,  but  the  proper  answer  for 
him.  She  thought  of  several  answers,  all  reserved, 
indifferent,  discouraging  the  faintest  hint  of  in 
timacy,  and  therefore  suitable.  Then  she  said: 
"  Would  it  interest  you  to  know  what  your  ste 
nographer  thinks  about  you?  " 

He  said  it  would  interest  him  excessively,  and 
he  desired  information. 

"  I  think,"  she  said,  not  looking  at  him  but  at 
her  pencil,  with  which  she  was  tracing  arabesques 
on  the  pad,  "  I  think  that  you  could  do  some  things 
much  better  than — others.  Oh,  dear !  that  sounds 
like  Tupper — but  it's  true." 

"  You  mean  I'd  make  a  better  bandit,  for  ex 
ample,  than  I  do  a  poet  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  qualification  you  have  for 
the  career  you  suggest,"  she  replied  demurely. 

"  I  understand  you,"  he  said ;  "  it's  as  simple  as 
those  profound  lines : 

229 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

" '  A  fool  is  bent  upon  a  twig,  but  wise  men  shun  a 

bandit ; 
Which  is  really  very  clever  if  you  only  understand  it.'" 

That's  what  you  intended  to  say,  wasn't  it?  " 

They  were  both  laughing,  she  with  more  reserve 
than  he. 

"  If  a  bandit's  life  is  not  a  happy  one,  what 
must  a  poet's  life  resemble?"  he  demanded. 
"  Why,  it's  a  perfect — but  the  word  is  inadequate, 
Miss  Grey.  Did  you  ever  for  one  mad  moment 
suppose  that  I  wrote  rhymes  for  the  pleasure  it 
gave  me  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  said,  "  I  didn't." 

"  Or  did  you  imagine  I  was  infatuated  with  the 
notion  that  my  rhymes  gave  pleasure  to  others  ?  " 

She  laughed  such  a  care-free  laugh — so  sweet, 
so  entirely  gay  and  innocent — that  he  said  im 
pulsively  :  "  I  wish  you'd  let  me  tell  you  how  it 
is.  I  do  so  hate  to  appear  a  fool  to  you." 

Something  checked  her  mirth,  yet  it  scarcely 
could  be  what  he  said,  for  his  speech  and  manner 
were  quite  free  from  offense. 

"May  I  tell  you?"  he  asked,  conscious  of  the 
shadow  of  constraint  between  them. 

There  was  something  in  her  silent  acquiescence 
which  hinted :  "  My  time  is  yours,  Mr.  Hildreth ; 
but,  considering  the  strictly  business   footing  of 
230 


THE   SWASTIKA 


our  relations,  hadn't  you  better  begin  to  make  your 
third  verse?  "  And  no  doubt  the  slight  impatient 
movement  of  his  shoulders  meant :  "  No,  I  won't 
begin  my  third  verse ;  I  desire  to  unburden  to  you 
a  soul  too  long  misunderstood."  But  the  inter 
pretation  of  her  silence  and  his  shrug  are  purely 
speculative  on  my  part. 

"  I'd  quit  this  verse  making  in  a  moment  if  I 
could,"  he  said ;  "  but  it's  my  livelihood.  I  always 
loathed  poetry,  even  my  own ;  but  I've  simply  got 
to  earn  my  living." 

"  Surely,"  she  said,  with  an  instinctive  glance 
around  the  exceedingly  ornate  apartment,  "  it 
would  be  silly  for  you  to  give  up  making  adver 
tising  verses  for  your  uncle  as  long  as — as " 

"  As  long  as  it  permits  me  to  live  like  this  ?  Do 
you  suppose  that  this  is  my  apartment? — that 
anything  in  it  belongs  to  me? — that  my  income 
from  my  wafer  poetry  would  even  pay  for  a  single 
week's  rent  here?  There's  the  ghastly  mockery 
of  it.  Why,  my  salary  is  just  twice  what  yours 
is :  in  other  words,  I  divide  with  you  every  week." 

She  regarded  him  with  amazement. 

"  Apartment,  servants — everything  belongs   to 

my  uncle.     My  uncle  has  views,"  he  said,  waving 

his  hand.      "  Unfortunately,  one   of  his  views   is 

how  to  bring  up  his  only  nephew.     Just  fancy  a 

is  231 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

man  fresh  from  Harvard  flung  neck  and  heels  into 
his  uncle's  wafer  business  on  thirty  dollars  a 
week!" 

"  Dreadful,"  she  motioned  with  her  lips. 

"  Neck  and  heels !  He  said  I  was  to  find  no 
favors,  no  privileges ;  that  I  must  begin  at  the 
lowest  rung  of  the  ladder,  and,  as  he  knew  of 
nothing  lower  than  poetry,  he  set  me  to  work  writ 
ing  Honey  Wafer  ads.  I'm  to  be  promoted  next 
year  to  be  the  artist  that  draws  pictures  for  the 
ads.  After  that  I  shall  advance  through  the  bak 
ing,  packing,  and  truck  departments  until  I 
become  a  traveling  salesman.  Meanwhile,  I've 
emerged  from  my  cheap  boarding  house  to  keep 
his  servants  busy  till  he  returns." 

She  sat  very  still,  watching  him  with  her  beau 
tiful,  serious  young  eyes. 

"  Then,  some  day,  I'm  to  be  taken  into  the  con 
cern  and  become  a  partner  if 

"  If?  " 

"  If  I  don't  marry." 

"Oh!"  she  said  faintly. 

"  But  if  I  do " 

There  was  an  ominous  pause ;  then  she  repeated 
calmly : 

"If  you  Jo?" 

"  I'm  down  and  out,  and  he  leaves  about  five 
232 


THE   SWASTIKA 


millions  to  the  Society  for  Psychical  Research.  A 
nice  position  for  me  if  I  should  ever  fall  in  love, 
isn't  it?" 

The  pause  was  longer  this  time. 

"  The  Society  for  Psychical  Research,"  she  re 
peated  under  her  breath. 

"  Yes.  You  know — they  investigate  spooks, 
and  tip  tables,  and  go  into  trances,  and  see  blond 
gentlemen  coming  over  the  ocean  to  marry  you, 
and  dark  ladies  hiding  around  the  corner." 

"  Is  he  interested  in  such  things — your  uncle  ?  " 

"  Mad  about  them.  He's  up  at  his  country 
place  now  with  a  bunch  of  Columbia  professors 
and  Sixth  Avenue  clairvoyants,  engaged  in  crystal- 
gazing  experiments.  Later  he's  going  to  lecture 
about  'em  at  Columbia  University." 

"What  is  crystal  gazing?"  she  asked  inno 
cently. 

"  To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  don't  know  exactly. 
My  uncle  and  a  fat  clairvoyant  in  a  pink  teagown 
sit  at  a  table  and  squint  into  a  big  globe  made  of 
rock  crystal;  and  he  tells  me  that  he  can  sit  in 
his  chair  up  there  at  Adrintha  Lodge  and  see,  in 
the  crystal,  everything  that  he  wants  to  see — in 
cluding  how  I'm  behaving  myself  down  here  in 
town.  He  told  me  that  if  I  ever — ever  kissed  any 
body  he'd  see  it  and  discharge  me." 
233 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

"  Does  he  say  he  can  see  you?  " 

"  He  does." 

"  And  everything  you  are  doing  ?  " 

"  Every  blessed  thing." 

"  Do  you  believe  it?  "  she  asked  anxiously. 

"  No,  of  course  not.  But  I  let  him  think  he 
has  me  scared  to  death." 

She  leaned  forward  on  the  table,  clasping  both 
hands  under  her  chin. 

"  Is  that  what  keeps  you  on  your  best  be 
havior?  " 

It  was  rather  a  curious  thing  to  say. 

"  Suppose,"  she  added,  "  that  your  uncle  was 
looking  into  his  crystal  at  this  very  minute.  I 
think,  if  you  please,  we'd  better  stop  talking 
and  begin  our  work.  .  .  .  Don't  you?  I  think 
we  ought  at  least  to  look  as  though  we  were 
busy." 

"  You  don't  believe  that  he  could  see  us,  do 
you?  "  demanded  Hildreth. 

"  No ;  .  .  .  but  suppose  he  could  ?  Don't  you 
think  I'd  better  copy  your  verses — or  be  doing 
something 

She  hastily  placed  a  sheet  of  paper  in  the  ma 
chine,  slid  it  into  place,  and  struck  several  keys. 
It  was  quite  unconscious  on  her  part,  but  when, 
a  moment  later,  she  turned  the  sheet  over  she  found 
234 


THE   SWASTIKA 


that  she  had  written  his  name  about  sixty  times. 
The  portent  of  this,  however,  did  not  then  strike 
her. 

Somewhere  in  the  room  little  silvery  chimes 
sounded  the  hour. 

"  Can  it  be  two  o'clock  already  ?  "  she  exclaimed. 

He  examined  his  watch  in  assumed  surprise. 
"  Why,  we  are  just  in  time!  "  he  said  hazily. 

"Yes,  Mr.  Hildreth — in  time  for  what?" 

«  You — you  won't  be  offended — where  anything 
but  offense  is  meant — will  you  ?  " 

She  had  risen  to  face  him ;  he,  rather  red  about 
the  ears,  began  by  making  a  mess  of  what  he  was 
saying;  and  when  she  had  grasped  the  import  of 
it  she  let  him  go  on  making  a  mess  until  his  irrita 
tion  straightened  out  matters. 

"  It's  only  that  you've  been  so  kind  to  help  me 
do  all  that  advertising  poetry,  and  I'm  so  tremen 
dously  grateful,  and  it's  our  first  annivers — our — 
er — the  occasion —  You  know  what  I  mean.  So 
please  stay  to  luncheon.  Will  you  ?  " 

"  Please  don't  ask  me,  Mr.  Hildreth " 

"  Yes,  I  will !  You  simply  can't  be  offended ; 
you  simply  cannot  mistake  my  attitude,  my  mean- 
ing-  -" 

"  I  am  not  offended.     You  are  very  thoughtful 

—amiable — but  I  think  I  ought  to  go 

235 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

"  Our  anni — the  date,  you  know — just  to  cele 
brate  a  purely  business  arrangement  which  has 
been  so  delight — so  profitable  to  me,  I  mean " 

"  No,  I  could  not  stay,  Mr.  Hildreth " 

"  But  it's  partly  for  business  purposes,"  he 
explained  anxiously.  "  Why,  you  must  know, 
Miss  Grey,  that  more  business  is  transacted  at 
luncheon  than  before  or  after.  That's  what  great 
financiers  do;  they  say  to  the  head  of  a  depart 
ment  :  4  Lunch  with  me,  Mr.  So-and-so.'  And  Mr. 
So-and-so  understands  at  once." 

"  Does  that  great  financier  ever  say :  '  Lunch 
with  me,  Miss  So-and-so  '  ?  " 

"  Yes,  often  and  often.    And  she  understands !  " 

"  Are  you  sure  she  does  ?  " 

"  I  am.    Please  let  me  be  sure." 

"  Mr.  Hildreth,  I  should — should  like  to — there, 
I  admit  it !  But  it  is  not  convenable.  I  know  it ; 
you  know  it;  it  is  not  the  thing  for  us  to  do.  I 
have  no  business  here  except  as  your  stenographer. 
I  could  not  accept." 

"Because  you  are  a  stenographer?" 

"  If  I  were  not  in  your  employment  I  should 
not  be  here  with  you.  You  know  that." 

"  But  I  should  perhaps  be  at  your  house  if— 

"  You  are  speculating  in  impossibilities."  She 
bent  her  head,  smiling  across  the  table  at  him,  and 
236 


THE   SWASTIKA 


dropping  her  hand  on  the  books  he  had  given  her. 
"  Your  kindness  must  have  some  bounds ;  let  it 
end  in  these  bindings ;  I — I  shall  remember  it  with 
each  leaf  I  turn."  And  as  he  said  nothing,  but 
looked  rather  miserable,  she  added :  "  Won't 
you?" 

There  was  another  interval  of  silence ;  she  con 
sidered  his  face  anew.  The  unhappiness  in  it  was 
evident. 

"  Do  you  really  want  me  ...  to  talk  busi 
ness?" 

"  I  want  you  to  stay.    Will  you  ?  " 

She  did  not  answer,  though  a  little  tremor 
touched  her  lips. 

"That's  jolly!"  he  said  gayly,  and  touched 
an  electric  button  behind  him.  And  a  moment 
later  a  maid  in  cap  and  apron  respectfully  piloted 
her  out  of  sight. 

About  half  past  two  a  Japanese  butler  served 
them  in  the  colonial  breakfast  room,  and  she 
laughed  at  the  little  silver  trifle  she  found  beside 
her  plate — a  tiny  type-machine  made  to  hold  scents 
in  microscopic  crystal  vials.  Her  initials  were  en 
graved  upon  it. 

"  You  see,"  he  said,  "  /  do  not  regard  our 
poetical  partnership  lightly,  even  if  you  do.  What 
you  have  done  for  me  is  going  to  enable  me  to 
237 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

enter  the  firm  one  day — aided  by  your  editing  my 
verses." 

"  I  never  before  understood,"  she  admitted, 
"  why  you  advertised  for  a  stenographer  who  was 
a  graduate  of  Barnard  College.  And — when  I 
applied  to  you  I  was  perfectly  astonished  when 
you  asked  me  so  anxiously  whether  I  could  rhyme 
and  draw  pictures." 

He  examined  his  grape  fruit  and  extracted  a 
minted  cherry  with  great  care.  Presently  he 
swallowed  it. 

"  I  knew  from  the  first  instant  I  saw  you  that 
my  chance  in  life  had  come,"  he  observed. 

"  You  didn't  know  it  before  you  questioned  me." 

"  Yes,  I  did." 

"How?" 

He  looked  up  at  her :  "  I  don't  know  how  I  knew 
it."  She  was  apparently  interested  in  the  aroma 
of  her  wine.  "  But  I  knew  it,"  he  ended. 

The  vintage  was  doubtless  worthy  of  the  serious 
attention  she  gave  it. 

"  Do  you  know  what  wine  that  is  ?  "  he  asked, 
amused. 

"  Yes ;  it  is  Sarna,"  she  said  simply. 

"  How  did  you  know?  "  he  exclaimed  in  amaze 
ment. 

She  lifted  the  glass  with  a  pretty  gesture :  "  Are 
238 


THE   SWASTIKA 


you  so  astonished  that  your  stenographer  knows 
the  rarest  wine  in  the  world — and  the  legend  con 
cerning  it?  A  most  inappropriate  wine  for  such 
a  luncheon,  Mr.  Hildreth 

"  You  are  a  constant  series  of  endless  astonish 
ments  to  me,"  he  said.  "  Where  on  earth  you  ever 
heard  of  Sarna — and  how  you  should  have  known 
it  when  you  saw  it — this  wine  so  rare  that  but  one 
in  ten  thousand  experts  ever  heard  of  it 

"  Why  did  you  have  it  served  ?  "  she  asked  di 
rectly.  "  Do  you  know  what  this  wine  of  Sarna 
signifies?  Do  you  know  every  drop  is  worth  ten 
times  its  weight  in  gold?  Do  you  know  there 
are  not  three  other  bottles  of  it  known  in  the 
world?" 

"  I  knew  all  that.  I  believed  that  Sarna  alone 
was  worthy  of — of  " — he  met  her  level  gaze — "  of 
our  first  anniversary." 

"  No ;  it  is  inappropriate,"  she  replied  steadily. 
"  Do  you  not  know  the  legend  ?  " 

"  It  is  the  only  wine  not  forbidden  by  the  Koran. 
Is  that  what  you  mean?  Or  do  you  mean — "  He 
hesitated. 

"  Yes,  that.     The  last  Khedive  emptied  the  last 

glass  of  the  last  but  three  bottles  remaining  in  all 

the  world  while  his  bride's  lips  were  still  wet  with 

the  dew  of  Sarna.     It  is  the  custom  of  Emperors 

239 


THE   TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

and  Sultans — ask  me  for  how  long,  and  my  an 
swer  is:  as  long  as  the  saros;  compute  it,  oh, 
Heaven-born ! "  She  crossed  her  pretty  hands 
below  her  throat,  a  smile,  half  gay,  half  tender, 
parting  her  lips. 

"  How  did  you  know  such  things  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  My  father  was  a  judge  of  the  Mixed  Tri 
bunal,"  she  answered  gravely.  "  My  mother  was 
married  there ;  I  was  born  in  Cairo." 

"  Fate !  "  he  said  excitedly—"  sheer  Fate !  My 
father  was  the  ex-Confederate,  Hildreth  Pasha, 
of  the  Khedival  Court !  The  Sarna — that  bottle 
cradled  there — came  from  a  judge  of  the  Mixed 
Tribunal !  Shall  not  their  children  touch  the  same 
glass?" 

They  both  were  excited,  flushed,  a  little  be 
wildered. 

"  Do  you  know  the  custom  ?  "  he  asked  reck 
lessly. 

"  Y-es."  She  held  up  one  slender  finger ;  her 
mother's  betrothal  ring,  set  with  the  diamond 
scarab,  sparkled  on  the  white  skin;  and  she  drew 
the  thin  circlet  from  her  finger  and  held  it  sus 
pended  over  the  glass  of  golden  Sarna.  The  single 
brilliant  flashed  and  flashed  as  though  the  sacred 
beetle  were  struggling  to  be  free. 

"Shall  I?" 

240 


THE   SWASTIKA 


"  Try  it,"  he  laughed.  "  Who  knows  what  sign 
of  fortune  the  dead  Sultans  may  send  ?  " 

"  They  -  -  they  only  send  a  sign  to  —  to 
brides " 

"  I  know  it.     Try !  " 

"  But  the  mechanism  is  unknown  to  me ;  it  is 
not  possible  that  a  bath  of  this  scented  wine  could 
start  it " 

"Try!" 

There  was  a  glimmer,  a  little  clinking  splash 
in  the  slim  wineglass.  They  inspected  the  ring 
lying  in  the  amber  wine;  they  glanced  at  one  an 
other  rather  foolishly.  Then,  looking  at  him,  she 
raised  the  glass,  tasted,  passed  it  to  him.  He 
tasted,  his  eyes  on  her,  and  set  the  half -empty 
glass  before  her. 

"  I — I  believe  there's  something  happening  to 
that  ring,"  said  Hildreth  suddenly,  rising  and 
passing  around  the  table  to  her  side. 

Breathless,  they  bent  over  the  glass,  heads  close 
together. 

"  Doesn't  it  look  to  you  as  though  that  diamond 
scarab  were  moving  ?  "  he  said  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Yes ;  but  it  can't  be — how  can  it " 

"Look!" 

"  Oh— h !  "  she  whispered—"  see !  It— it's 
alive !  It  is  unfolding  arms  and  legs  like  a  crab." 
241 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

"  What  on  earth —  "  he  stammered,  but  got  no 
further,  for  the  girl  caught  him  by  the  arm: 
"  Look !  Look !  The  swastika!  It  means  fortune ! 
It  means — it  means " 

His  hand  shook  as  he  lifted  the  glass  and  re 
versed  it.  A  shower  of  perfumed  wine  sprinkled 
the  lace  centerpiece;  the  mystic  swastika,  glit 
tering,  magnificent,  fell  heavily  upon  the  ma 
hogany — a  dull,  gem-incrusted  lump  of  purest 
gold. 

"  What  is  it?  "  he  gasped.  "  I  thought  it  was 
alive,  like  one  of  those  jeweled  Egyptian  beetles! 
I  thought  those  things  were  legs !  " 

"  It  is  the  swastika,"  she  whispered,  laying  it 
in  her  pink  palm.  "  Who  wears  it  shall  always — 
She  stopped  short,  hesitated,  then  the  color  in  her 
face  deepened,  and  she  looked  up  over  her  shoulder 
at  him.  "Will  you  do  something  for  me?"  she 
asked. 

"  Yes." 

"  Wear  this.  Will  you?  "  She  drew  her  tiny 
handkerchief  from  her  sleeve,  tore  a  shred  of 
cambric  from  it,  passed  it  through  the  swastika, 
and,  before  he  knew  what  she  meant  to  do,  had  tied 
it  to  his  lapel. 

"  Just  to  see  what  happens,"  she  said,  laugh 
ing  almost  hysterically.     If  there  was  the  slightest 
242 


THE   SWASTIKA 


chance  of  any  luck  in  the  world  she  wished  it  to 
be  his.  It  was  all  she  had  to  give. 

"  You  resign  your  chance  of  fortune  to  me  ?  " 
he  asked  curiously — and,  as  she  only  nodded: 
"  There  is  but  one  happiness  Fortune  can  bring 
me.  Are  you  willing  to  trust  it  to  me?  " 

Before  she  could  reply  a  maid  appeared  with 
a  telegram;  he  asked  her  pardon,  and  opened  it. 
Twice  he  read  it,  read  it  again,  nodded  a  dazed 
dismissal  to  the  maid,  read  it  again  very  carefully, 
and  finally,  with  a  smile  that  was  somewhat  sickly, 
handed  it  across  the  table  to  her. 

What  she  read  was  this : 

ADRINTHA  LODGE, 
MOHAWK  COUNTY,  NEW  YORK. 

JOHN  HILDRETH  :  I  know  what  you're  up  to,  and 
you  had  better  stop.  PETER  HILDRETH. 

"  Peter  Hildreth,"  she  repeated  blankly. 

"  My  uncle." 

"  But — but  what  does  he  mean  ?  " 

"  That's  what  I'd  like  to  know,"  said  the  young 
fellow  uneasily. 

"  Is  he  in  the  habit  of  telegraphing  you  ?  " 

"  No,  he  isn't ;  he  never  did  such  a  thing." 

She  turned  the  yellow  leaf  of  paper  over  and 
over  thoughtfully.  Then  he  suddenly  encountered 
her  disturbed  gaze. 

243 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

"  He  says  that  he  knows  what  you're  up  to,  and 
you'd  better  stop,"  she  said.  "  What  are  you  up 
to,  Mr.  Hildreth?" 

"  Up  to  ?  Absolutely  nothing !  I'm  fairly  tin 
gling  with  the  consciousness  of  innocence,  right 
eousness,  and  good  intentions.  /  don't  know 
what  that  old  crank  means — any  more  than  you 
know." 

"  I — I  am  dreadfully  afraid  that  7  know  what 
he  means." 

"What?" 

"  I  think  he  means  me." 

"You!    Why?" 

"  Because  I'm  here — here  lunching  with  you. 
He  might  draw — dreadful  conclusions." 

"  What  on  earth  do  you  mean,  Miss  Grey  ? 
He  never  even  heard  of  you.  Plow  can  he  know 
you  are  here?  " 

"  Suppose — suppose  he  is — is  looking  into  his 
crystal !  " 

A  sudden  silence  fell,  lasting  until  the  coffee  was 
served. 

"  It  is  nonsense  to  suppose  that  people  can  do 
such  things,"  said  Hildreth  abruptly. 

"  What  things  ?  "  she  asked,  watching  him  set 
fire  to  a  cigarette. 

"  Such  things  as  looking  into  crystals  and  see- 
244 


THE   SWASTIKA 


ing  nephews.  Anyway,  what  is  there  to  see  ?  " 
He  waved  his  hands  as  though  scattering  suspi 
cion  to  the  four  winds.  "  What  is  there  to  see 
except  a  future  financier  and  his  principal  chief 
of  department  at  a  purely  business  luncheon " 

With  silver  souvenirs  and  Sarna,"  she  mur 
mured. 

They  laughed,  feeling  the  constraint  subsiding 
once  more. 

"  Please  let  us  talk  a  little  business — for  form's 
sake,  if  nothing  else,"  she  said. 

"  All  right ;  your  salary  is  to  be  increased " 

"  Mr.  Hildreth,  you  cannot  afford  any  extrav 
agances,  and  you  know  it." 

"  I  am  not  going  to  let  you  write  my  verses, 
and  profit  by  it  to  your  exclusion!  Besides,  this 
swastika  is  going  to  enable  me  to  afford  anything, 
I  understand." 

"  But  you  already  divide  your  salary  with  me. 
You  can't  do  more !  " 

"  Yes,  I  can." 

"  No,  no,  no !  Wait  until  you  are  promoted  to 
be  the  advertising  artist.  Wait  until  the  swastika 
begins  to  help  us — you." 

"  No ;  because  then  you'll  have  to  draw  all  my 
pictures  for  me,  and  your  salary  must  be  increased 


again." 


245 


THE    TREE    OF   HEAVEN 

"At  that  rate,"  she  said,  laughing,  "I'll  be 
half  partner  when  you  are." 

"  Full  partner — if  the  swastika  knows  its  busi 
ness.  I — I — wish  he  didn't  have  that  crystal  up 
there  at  Adrintha.  I've  a  mind  to  buy  a  rabbit's 
foot.  With  a  rabbit's  foot  and  a  swastika  we 
ought  to  checkmate  any  crystal-gazing,  pink-eyed 
clairvoyants." 

"  But — what  have  they  to  do  with  us  ?  "  she 
asked  gently. 

What  he  was  about  to  say  he  only  half  divined 
— for  she  was  bewilderingly  pretty — and  perhaps 
she  dimly  foresaw  it,  too,  for  they  both  flushed 
with  a  sudden  constraint  that  was  abruptly  broken 
by  the  entrance  of  the  maid  with  another  telegram. 

"  What  the  deuce — "  stammered  Hildreth,  tear 
ing  open  the  yellow  envelope;  and  he  read: 

ADRINTHA  LODGE. 

JOHN  HILDRETH  :  I'm  watching  you  in  my  crystal. 
If  you  want  the  Society  for  Psychical  Research  to  become 
my  heirs,  do  exactly  what  you're  doing  with  that  girl. 

PETER  HILDRETH. 

"Is — is  it  anything  alarming?"  asked  the 
pretty  stenographer  as  he  crumpled  the  paper. 

"  Alarming  ?      I   don't    know — no !      What   the 
mischief  has  got  into  that  uncle  of  mine?  " 
246 


THE   SWASTIKA 


"  Is  it  from  him  ?  "  she  asked,  turning  pale. 

"  Yes — it  is.  But  if  he  thinks  he  can  make  me 
believe  that  he  sees  me  in  his  dinky  little  crys 
tal " 

"  Oh,  don't  talk  that  way,"  she  pleaded ;  "  there 
may  be  things  that  we  don't  understand  happen 
ing  all  the  while " 

"There  can't  be!" 

For  a  while  she  was  dumb,  mutely  refusing  to 
be  reassured,  and  presently,  rising  from  the  table, 
they  passed  into  the  gay  little  room  where  her  desk 
stood. 

The  fire  was  glowing  very  brightly  in  the  carved 
fireplace  of  golden  and  pearl-tinted  onyx.  He 
drew  up  his  uncle's  great  chair  for  her ;  she  shook 
her  head  and  looked  meaningly  at  her  pad  and 
pencil,  but  after  a  silent  struggle  with  indecision 
and  inclination  she  seated  herself  by  the  gilt  fen 
der,  pretty  hands  folded  in  acquiescence. 

"  Now,"  he  said,  "  let  us  speak  of  those  things 
that  have  come  true." 

"  What  has  come  true,  Mr.  Hildreth?  " 

"  You." 

The  slightest  of  rose  tints  touched  her  cheeks. 

"  Did  you  believe  me  unreal  ?  "  she  asked. 

He  was  leaning  forward,  looking  up  into  her 
face,  which  reflected  the  pink  light  of  the  fire. 
17  247 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

And  what  he  started  to  say  Heaven  alone  knows, 
for  his  voice  was  dreadfully  unsteady.  However, 
it  ceased  quickly  enough  when  the  maid  knocked 
rather  loudly  and  presented  a  third  telegram  to 
her  disconcerted  master;  and  this  was  what  he 

read: 

ADRINTHA  LODGE. 

JOHN  HILDRETH  :  If  you  kiss  that  girl  you're  talking 
to  I'll  disinherit  you.  PETER  HILDRETH. 

Stunned,  the  young  man  sat  for  a  moment, 
vacant  eyes  fixed  on  the  writing  that  alternately 
blurred  and  sprang  into  dreadful  distinctness 
under  his  gaze.  Presently  he  heard  a  voice  not 
much  like  his  own  saying :  "  It's  nonsense ;  things 
like  this  don't  happen  in  1907  in  the  borough  of 
Manhattan.  Why,  that's  Fifth  Avenue  out  there, 
and  there's  Thirtieth  Street,  too;  besides,  the 
town's  full  of  police ;  and  they  pinch  star-readers 
and  astrologers  these  days.  Anyway,  we  have  the 
swastika,  and  it  will  put  any  Sixth  Avenue  astrol 
oger  out  of  business " 

"  I — I  don't  think  I  quite  understand  you," 
faltered  the  girl. 

He  looked  at  her;  the  scared  expression  died 
out. 

"  I'll  get  my  uncle  on  the  long-distance  'phone 
in  a  moment,"  he  said  irritably.  "  Then  we'll 
248 


THE   SWASTIKA 


clear  up  this  business.  Meanwhile — "  He  twisted 
up  the  telegram  as  though  to  cast  it  on  the 
coals. 

"  Let  me  see  it,"  she  said  calmly. 

"  I— it  is— no— I  can't " 

"  Then  it  concerns  me?  " 

He  was  silent. 

"  Very  well,"  she  said.  "  Don't  burn  it ;  leave 
it  for  a  moment." 

He  laid  the  telegram  on  the  arm  of  his  chair. 
"  It's  more  crystal-gazing,"  he  said,  trying  to 
laugh  easily,  and  failing.  "  It  is  rather  extraor 
dinary,  too.  But — see  here,  Miss  Grey,  it's  utter 
nonsense  to  believe  that  my  uncle  can  actually  see 
us  here  in  this  room ! 

"  I  concede  that  it  is  rather  odd,  even,  perhaps, 
exceedingly  remarkable,"  he  added  slowly ;  "  but 
I  cannot  believe  that  my  uncle,  two  hundred  miles 
north  of  us,  can  see  you  and  me  in  his  confounded 
crystal.  My  explanation  of  his  telegrams  is  this : 
he  has  merely  taken  the  precaution,  at  intervals, 
to  try  to  frighten  me,  assuming  that  I  am  in  mis 
chief.  It's  coincidence " 

"Mr.  Hildreth!" 

"  Not  that  I  admit  for  one  moment  that  you 
and  I  are  in  mischief !  "  he  explained  hastily. 

"  But  7  admit  it.  It  is  all  wrong,  and  we  both 
249 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

know  it.     If  I  am  not  here  officially  I  ought  not 
to  be  here  at  all." 

"  Can't  I  talk  to  you  except  on  business  ?  " 

"Why  should  you?" 

"  Because  I  want  to — because  it  is  pleasant — 
because  it's  the  pleasantest  thing  that  has  ever 
come  into  my  life !  " 

"That  cannot  be,"  she  said,  paling.  "You 
know  many  people,  you  go  everywhere — every 
where  that  I  do  not " 

"  If  I  were  not  an  advertising  poet  at  thirty 
dollars  a  week,"  he  said,  "  I'd  not  care  where  my 
uncle  left  his  millions.  I'd  do  what  I  pleased— 
what  I  ought  to  do — what  any  man  with  a  grain 
of  sense  would  do." 

"  What  would  you  do,  Mr.  Hildreth?  " 

"  Make  love  to  the  girl  I  love,  and  not  be  scared 
away  like  a  rabbit !  " 

She  was  still  paler  when  she  said:  "Are  you — 
in  love,  then  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  but  I  can't  tell  her." 

She  was  silent,  staring  into  the  fire. 

"  I  can't  tell  her,  can  I?  I  have  nothing  to  offer 
— nothing  except  a  prospect  of  losing  my  expecta 
tions.  A  man  can't  tell  a  girl  that  he  loves  her 
under  such  circumstances,  can  he  ?  " 

"  I— don't  know." 

250 


THE   SWASTIKA 


"  Do  you  suppose  a — a  girl  like  that  would  wait 
for  him — until  he  got  into  the  firm?  " 

"  If  she  loved  him,"  said  Miss  Grey  in  a  low 
voice,  "  there  is  absolutely  no  telling  what  that 
girl  might  do." 

"  Suppose,"  he  said  carelessly,  "  for  the  sake  of 
illustration,  that  I  was,  at  this  moment,  with  that 
girl.  For  example  " — he  waved  his  hand  airily — 
"  for  example,  suppose  you  were  that  girl.  Now, 
suppose  that  I  told  her  I  loved  her ;  do  you  imagine 
that  uncle  of  mine  could  see  what  I  was  about — 
if  I  worked  the  swastika  on  him  vigorously  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  said,  staring  at  the  fire, 
"  how  to  work  the  swastika." 

"  If  you — if  you  would  consent  to  aid  me — just 
a  little,"  he  ventured,  "  I  could  soon  prove  whether 
it  was  safe  to  speak  to  the — the  other  girl." 

"How,  Mr.  Hildreth?" 

"  By  just — just  pretending  that  you  were  that 
other  girl." 

"  You  mean  that  you  might  practice  a  declara 
tion — test  it — on  me?  Just  to  see  how  it  might 
affect  your  uncle?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  said  eagerly,  "  and  if  my  uncle 
doesn't  telegraph  again  that  he  disowns  me,  why, 
I'll  know  that  his  other  telegrams  were  merely 
coincidences !  " 

251 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

"  And  if  he  does  telegraph  that  he  has  seen — 
everything — in  his  crystal?" 

"  Why— we'll  have  to  wait " 

"  The  other  girl  and  you?  I  see.  You  and  I 
can  truthfully  deny  our  apparent  guilt,  can't  we? 
...  I  will  do  what  I  can,  Mr.  Hildreth." 

She  stood  up,  one  little  hand  on  the  back  of  the 
chair.  He  hesitated,  then  picked  up  the  last  tele 
gram,  opened  it,  and  handed  it  to  her,  reading  it 
again  over  her  shoulder: 

"  If  you  kiss  that  girl  you're  talking  to  I'll 
disinherit  you" 

A  bright  blush  stained  her  skin. 

"It  is  only — only  to  test  his  power,"  he  man 
aged  to  say,  but  the  thumping  of  his  heart  jarred 
his  speech  and  scared  him  into  silence. 

"You — is  it  necessary  to  kiss  me?" 

"  Yes — absolutely. 

She  met  his  gaze,  standing  erect,  one  hand  on 
the  chair:  Then  she  drew  a  long  breath  as  he 
lifted  her  hand ;  her  eyes  closed.  He  said :  "  I 
love  you — I  loved  you  the  moment  I  saw  you — a 
month  ago !  "  This  was  no  doubt  a  mistake ;  he 
was  mixing  the  two  girls.  "  What  do  I  care  for 
a  crystal-squinting  uncle,  or  for  those  accursed 
Honey  Wafer  verses?  If  he's  looking  at  us  now 
let  us  convince  him ;  shall  we — sweetheart  ?  " 
252 


THE   SWASTIKA 


She  unclosed  her  eyes.  "  Am  I  to  play  my  part 
when  you  speak  to  me  like  that?  I  don't  know 
how " 

"  Do  what  I  do,"  he  stammered ;  and  he  encir 
cled  her  slender  waist  and  kissed  her  until,  cheeks 
aflame,  she  swayed  a  moment  in  his  arms,  freed 
herself,  and  sank  breathless  into  the  chair,  cover 
ing  her  face.  And  he  knelt  beside  her  by  the  gilt 
fender,  his  lips  to  her  fingers,  stammering  words 
that  almost  stunned  her  and  left  her  faint  with 
their  passion  and  sweetness : 

"  You  must  have  known  that  it  was  you  I  loved 
— that  you  were  that  other  girl.  You  must  have 
seen  it  a  thousand  times !  " 

She  was  crying  silently;  she  could  not  speak, 
but  one  arm  tightened  around  his  neck  in  tremulous 
assent. 

The  telephone  bell  had  been  ringing  for  some 
time  in  their  ears,  deaf  to  all  sounds  except  each 
other's  whispers;  but  at  length  he  stumbled 
to  his  feet,  cleared  his  eyes  of  enchantment, 
and  made  his  way  across  the  room  to  the  re 
ceiver. 

"  What  the  deuce  is  the  matter?  " 

"  Who?  " 

253 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

"  Oh,  is  that  you,  Uncle  Peter?  " 

"  Yes,  I  did  get  your  telegrams,  but  I 
thought — — " 

''  You  mean  to  say  you  can  see  us  now?  " 
"  No,  I  don't  deny  it ;  I  did  kiss  her." 
"  Because  I  love  her !  " 

"  I  can't  help  it ;  you  can  do  as  you  please. 
And  I  may  as  well  tell  you  that  I'm  not  afraid  of 
your  professors,  or  clairvoyants,  or  your  crystals, 
because  I've  got  a  swastika " 

'*  Yes,  a  swastika !  " 

"  You  don't  know  what  a  swastika  is  ?  Well, 
let  me  tell  you  it's  about  five  thousand  times  more 
powerful  than  a  rabbit's  foot.  .  .  .  What?  .  .  . 
Yes,  I'll  hold  the  wire  till  you  look  it  up  in  the 
dictionary." 

A  throbbing  silence.     Then: 

"  Yes,  Uncle  Peter,  I'm  here." 

•  •  •  •  » 

"  Very  well ;  I'm  sorry  you're  angry,  and  I  re 
gret  that  you're  not  afraid   of  the  swastika.     I 
254 


THE   SWASTIKA 


am  quite  willing  to  trust  to  it ;  the  swastika  gave 
me  the  girl  I  love.  And,  by  the  way,  Uncle  Peter, 
didn't  you  write  me  that  my  advertising  poems 
made  a  fortune  for  you  out  of  your  wafers?  .  .  . 
All  right;  I  only  wanted  to  confess  that  she,  not 
I,  wrote  them." 

"  Don't  believe  it  ?  Why,  I  could  no  more  write 
those  charming  verses  than  you  could !  " 

"  You  may  imagine  that  with  her  talent  and 
mine,  and  the  swastika  working  away  for  us,  we 
are  not  going  to  starve " 

"  That's  just  what  we  intend  to  do.  Bunsen's 
Baby  Biscuit  Company  will  appreciate  our  talents. 
Besides,  she  can  draw " 

4  You  can  call  it  blackmail  if  you  choose.  But 
what  do  you  offer  us  to  refuse  advances  from 
Bunsen?" 

"  No,  I  won't  consider  it.  My  price  is  full 
partnership  in  the  Hildreth's  Honey  Wafer  Com 
pany,  a  cordial  blessing  from  you,  use  of  your 
apartments  for  a  year,  and  the  same  old  cozy  place 
in  your  testament." 


255 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

"  Yes,  in  return  we  will  write  your  poetry  and 
draw  your  pictures  for  you.  And,  besides,  we'll 
name  after  you  our  first ' 

"  Jack !  "  she  exclaimed,  aghast. 

"  Dearest,  for  Heaven's  sake  let  me  deal  with 
him ! "  whispered  Hildreth ;  then  he  shouted 
through  the  transmitter: 

"  Is  it  aU  right,  Uncle  Peter?  " 

"  I  promise  you — we  promise  you  that  we  will 
name  him  Peter!  If  you  don't,  by  Heaven,  I'll 
name  him  Bunsen " 

"  That's  all  right,  but  we're  desperate.  Peter 
or  Bunsen ;  take  your  choice !  " 

"  Yes ;  and  I'll  have  his  photograph  taken  for 
Bunsen,  and  under  it  I'll  print : 4  A  Bunsen's  Baby 
Biscuit  Boy ! '  " 

"  Don't  use  such  language ;  they'll  cut  us  off !  " 
"What?" 

"  Good !  All  right,  Uncle  Peter,  you're  a  brick. 
But — just  one  thing  more ;  please  put  that  crystal 

away  for  an  hour  or  two " 

.  .  •  • 

256 


THE   SWASTIKA 


"  Because  we'd  like  a  little  privacy !  " 

"  Of  course  I  shall.  Long  engagements  are 
foolish " 

"Jack!" 

"  Dearest,  you  know  they  are,"  he  said,  turning 
toward  her.  "  Shall  I  tell  him  in  a  week?  " 

Her  blue  eyes  filled;  again  the  little  tremor  of 
acquiescence  set  her  red  mouth  quivering. 

"  In  a  week,  Uncle  Peter !  "  he  shouted. 

"  What?     I'll  ask  her.     Hold  the  wire." 

And  to  her  he  said :  "  Sweetheart,  our  kind 
Uncle  Peter  desires  to  say  something  civil  to  you. 
I — I  think  it  may  be  something  about  a  check. 
Will  you  speak  to  him?  " 

She  rose  and  came  toward  him;  he  handed  her 
the  receiver ;  she  raised  her  head,  and  he  bent  his. 
They  kissed — while  his  uncle  waited. 

Then  she  raised  the  receiver  to  her  pretty  ear, 
and  said,  very  softly: 

"  Hello !    Hello,  Uncle  Peter !  " 


257 


CHAPTER    X 

THE    GHOST    OF    CHANCE 

As  young  Leeds  entered  the  imposing  bronze 
and  marble  portico  of  the  Algonquin  Trust  Build 
ing,  where  he  had  a  studio  on  the  top  floor,  the 
elevator  boy  handed  him  a  telegram  and  he  opened 
it  with  instinctive  foreboding  of  trouble.  Mean 
while,  the  Ghost  of  Chance,  which  had  followed 
him  into  the  building,  looked  over  his  shoulder  at 
the  telegram. 

There  was  evidently  trouble  enough  in  it;  he 
had  turned  rather  white  as  he  stood  there,  eyes 
riveted  on  the  yellow  paper.  Minute  after  minute 
sped;  the  elevators  whizzed  up  and  down  in  their 
gilded  cages ;  people  passed  and  repassed ;  the  or 
namental  marble  pavement  of  the  rotunda  echoed 
the  clatter  of  footsteps.  Several  people  he  knew 
nodded  to  him  as  they  entered  or  left  the  ele 
vators  :  an  architect  domiciled  on  the  top  floor  in 
the  east  wing,  McManus,  of  the  Belden  Building 
and  Construction  Company;  young  Farren,  pri- 
258 


THE   GHOST   OF   CHANCE 

vate  Secretary  to  De  Peyster  Thorne,  president  of 
the  great  Algonquin  Trust  Company,  and  director 
of  about  everything  worth  directing  in  the  five 
boroughs. 

"  Mr.  Farren !  "  called  out  Leeds ;  and,  as  that 
suave  man  checked  his  speed,  wheeled,  and  came 
back,  "  Mr.  Farren,  could  I  see  Mr.  Thorne  for 
half  a  second?  " 

Farren's  eyes  narrowed  thoughtfully.  "  If  it's 
a  favor  you  want  to  ask,  don't  ask  it  now " 

"  It  is,  and  I've  got  to " 

"  Better  not ;  he's  in  a  devilish  humor ;  he'd 
foreclose  on  his  own  grandmother  to-day." 

"  But  I  can't  wait !  I'll  use  your  telephone 
while  you're  taking  my  card." 

Farren  shrugged,  turned,  and  led  the  way 
across  the  rotunda,  ushered  Leeds  into  the  outer 
office,  and  took  his  card.  Leeds  went  to  a  desk 
and  used  the  telephone  vigorously  until  Farren 
reappeared,  nodding;  and  Leeds  walked  into  the 
president's  private  room.  De  Peyster  Thorne, 
handsome,  rather  too  elaborately  groomed,  and 
ruddier  of  face  and  neck  than  usual,  looked  up  to 
return  the  young  man's  greeting  with  an  expres 
sionless  word  and  nod.  He  did  not  see  the  Ghost 
of  Chance  standing  at  Leeds's  elbow. 

"  I'm  awfully  sorry,"  said  Leeds,  "  but  I  don't 
259 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

see  how  I  can  finish  the  key  panel  on  time,  Mr. 
Thome." 

"Why  not?"  said  Thorne,  a  darker  flush 
mounting  his  heavy  face  and  neck. 

"  I've  a  telegram  this  moment  from  my  model ; 
she's  ill.  I  telephoned  for  another,  but  there's 
scarcely  a  chance  I  can  get  one  I  want.  Some 
thing  went  wrong  with  the  colors  yesterday  and 
I  scraped  out  all  I  had  done,  expecting  to  finish 
to-day  with  a  drier,  dry  to-morrow,  and  have  Mr. 
McManus  set  the  key  panel  in  the  ballroom  Thurs 
day  morning.  Now,  I've  probably  got  to  spend 
to-day  chasing  up  a  red-haired  model ;  and  if  I  do, 
I  cannot  finish  by  Thursday.  Couldn't  you  give 
me  one  day  more?  " 

"  Mr.  Leeds,"  said  Thorne,  biting  off  his  words 
unpleasantly,  "  a  contract  is  a  contract.  Can  you 
fulfill  yours?" 

"  I've  told  you,"  began  Leeds,  astonished — for 
never  before  had  Thorne  looked  or  spoken  in  that 
way — "  I  told  you  that  my  model " 

"  Can  you  keep  your  contract  ? "  repeated 
Thorne  sharply. 

"  There's  a  ghost  of  a  chance  if  I  can  get  a 
proper  model,"  replied  Leeds,  keeping  his  temper. 

"  Then  you'd  better  take  that  ghost  of  a  chance, 
Mr.  Leeds.  On  reflection  it  will  occur  to  you  that 
260 


THE   GHOST   OF   CHANCE 

my  housewarming  can  scarcely  be  postponed  to 
suit  your  rather  erratic  convenience.  If  the  key 
panel  is  not  in  place,  the  room  will  be  as  attractive 
as  a  man  in  evening  clothes  without  a  collar.  I'd 
rather  tear  out  the  entire  frieze,  and  call  the  con 
tract  void ! — and  I'll  do  it,  too,  if  the  contract  is 
not  fulfilled." 

"  Is  that  the  language  you  employ  in  all  your 
commercial  transactions  ?  "  asked  Leeds  without  a 
trace  of  the  passion  that  clutched  at  him. 

"  It  is.  An  artist  is  as  amenable  to  the  com 
mercial  code  of  responsibility  as  any  man  I  deal 
with — I  don't  care  a  damn  who  he  is  or  how  he 
likes  it.  ...  Is  there  anything  more  I  can  do  for 
you,  Mr.  Leeds  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Leeds  thoughtfully,  "  unless  you 
choose  to  take  a  kindergarten  course  in  the  ele 
ments  of  decency." 

Leaving  the  door  ajar  as  he  went  out,  and  far 
too  amazed  and  furious  to  notice  Mr.  Farren,  the 
amused  secretary,  he  crossed  the  corridor,  fol 
lowed  by  the  Ghost  of  Chance,  entered  an  elevator, 
and  shot  up  to  the  top  floor.  Black  rage  and 
astonishment  still  possessed  him  when  he  met  Mc- 
Manus  in  the  hall,  and  he  would  have  passed  on 
with  a  nod  and  a  scowl  had  that  genial  Irishman 
permitted. 

261 


THE   TREE   OF  HEAVEN 

"  Phwat  the  divil's  up  now,  Misther  Leeds?" 
inquired  the  big  contractor  and  builder.  "  I'll  lay 
twinty  to  wan  ye've  joost  come  from  Thorne." 

Leeds  laid  his  hand  on  the  door  knob  of  his 
studio. 

"  I  have ;  I — I'm  not  in  very  good  humor,  Mr. 
McManus — '  He  jerked  open  the  door  and 
started  to  enter. 

"  Hould  on ! — don't  be  runnin'  away.  Sure 
haven't  I  come  from  him  meself — an'  kept  me 
temper,  too,  Irish  that  I  am!  Phwat's  wrong 
betchune  you  an'  Misther  Thorne  an'  the  hy 
drant? " 

"  Nothing  much ;  my  model  is  ill  and  I  can't 
promise  to  give  you  that  key  panel  to  set.  Thorne 
said — one  or  two  things — oh,  I  can't  talk  about 
it ;  he  said  one  or  two  things " 

"  Bedad,  thin,  he  said  a  dozen  things  to  me ; 
an'  me  as  cool  as  a  Waldorf  julep,  an'  he  dammin' 
the  gildin'  whin  I  asked  f'r  the  sivinth  installment 
due  this  day.  '  It's  an  expert  I'll  have  f'r  to  ex 
amine  it,'  sez  he.  *  Projooce  the  wad,'  sez  I,  *  an' 
af  ther  that  I'll  talk  talks  to  anny  expert  ye  name.' 
An'  he  had  to." 

Leeds's  heart  turned  heavy.  "  I  don't  know 
what  Thorne  means  to  do,"  he  said.  "  I'm  not 
much  on  contracts ;  I've  done  my  best.  I  suppose 
262 


THE   GHOST   OF   CHANCE 

he  will  rip  it  out  if  he  wants  to.  If  he  does,  and 
if  he  cancels  the  contract,  it  will  about  ruin  me. 
I  never  had  but  four  other  commissions;  it  cost 
me  more  to  execute  them  than  I  was  paid." 

The  big  Irishman  studied  the  younger  man  with 
keen,  kindly  eyes.  He  knew  what  Leeds's  frieze 
really  was — a  piece  of  work  that  for  sheer  in 
spired  beauty  had  not  its  equal  in  modern  mural 
art.  He  knew — even  his  artisans  knew.  And  he 
knew,  also,  that  in  this  fifth  essay,  a  young  man, 
of  whom  the  public  had  already  heard,  was  step 
ping  half  unconsciously  into  the  highest  place  in 
the  Western  world  of  art.  All  this  McManus  was 
shrewdly  aware  of,  and  he  was  aware,  too,  that 
Leeds  was  more  or  less  conscious  of  it,  and  that 
Thorne  was  utterly  unconscious  that,  in  his  new 
house,  the  golden  ballroom  already  contained  the 
mural  masterpiece  of  the  twentieth  century — an 
exquisite,  gay  riot  of  color  and  design,  so  lovely, 
so  fresh,  that,  concealed  under  the  miracle  of  its 
simplicity,  the  marvelous  technical  perfections  of 
color,  drawing,  and  composition  were  almost  un 
noticed  in  the  blinding  brilliancy  of  the  ensemble. 

"  Did  that  red-necked  madman  say  he'd  rip 
it  out?"  inquired  McManus,  his  fiery  blue  eyes 
aglitter. 

"  That's  what  he  said.  I  don't  know  whether 
18  263 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

the  work  is  good  or  bad;  I'm  two  years  stale  on 
it.  I  could  paint  a  better  one  now.  But  if  he 
holds  me  to  the  letter  of  the  contract  and  throws 
back  two  years'  work  on  my  hands,  what  can  I 
do?  I — I  never  imagined  he  was  that  sort  of  a 
man ;  I  knew  he  didn't  care  much  for  painting — 
his  architects  got  him  to  give  me  the  work — my 
first  commission  that  promised  any  profit " 

Something  tightened  in  his  throat,  and  he 
turned  his  head  sharply  to  the  window  of  the 
corridor. 

"  Arrah,  thin,"  said  McManus  hastily,  "  don't 
be  frettin'.  G'wan,  now,  an'  paint  like  the  divil. 
Give  him  anny  ould  thing  f'r  to  ploog  the  key. 
Sure,  'tis  his  f ri'nds  will  tell  him  fasht  enough  the 
bargain  he's  got  in  a  frieze — a  frieze,  begob !  that 
no  man  twixt  the  two  poles  can  paint  like  you ! — 
an'  that's  the  truth,  Misther  Leeds,  though  ye 
don't  know  it,  bein'  modestlike  an'  misthrustin' 
av  the  powers  God  sinds  ye.  Ploog  him  up  with 
a  key  panel — anny  ould  daub,  I  tell  ye! — f'r  to 
clinch  the  contract  come  pay-day !  An'  I'll  set  it 
accordin'  to  conthract  Thursday  comin' ;  an' 
afther  he's  opened  his  big  gilt  house  to  the  mil 
lionaires  he  consorts  with,  an'  afther  the  bunch 
has  christened  their  muddy  wits  with  the  j'yful 
juice,  go  to  him  quietlike,  yer  foot  in  yer  hand 
264 


THE    GHOST   OF    CHANCE 

an'  the  tongue  in  the  cheek  o'  ye,  an'  say  mod- 
estlike :  '  Wisha,  sorr,  me  mastherpiece  is  not  quite 
to  me  likin' ;  an'  I'm  thinkin'  to  add  a  few  millions 
to  its  value  wid  a  stroke  av  a  badger  brush.' ' 

The  big  Irishman  laughed  heartily  and  laid  an 
enormous  paw  on  Leeds's  shoulder — a  gesture  so 
kindly  that  the  familiarity  seemed  without  offense. 

"  Phwat  does  the  like  o'  youse  care  for  Mr. 
Thorne  an'  his  big  red  neck  an'  the  pants  o'  him 
wid  the  creases,  an'  his  collar  buttoned  by  his 
valley?  F'r  all  his  scarf  pin  an'  his  shiny  shoes 
an'  his  Thrust  Company  an'  his  millions,  I  seen  a 
bit  of  a  lass  give  him  the  frozen  face  an  hour  ago." 

Leeds  looked  up  curiously. 

"  Arrah,  thin,  that's  what  crazed  him.  I  was 
there  in  his  office  discoorsin'  on  conthracts,  pwhen 
the  dure  opened  an'  a  young  lady  sthepped  in— 
not  seein'  me  pwhere  I  sat  behind  the  dure. 

"  '  Naida ! '  sez  he,  joompin'  up,  the  Burrgundy 
flush  on  the  face  an'  neck  av  him. 

"  '  I  came  to  tell  you  that  I  can't  do  it,'  sez  she, 
her  purty  face  like  a  rose  in  blush.  '  I'm  sorry,' 
she  sez,  '  but  I  thought  you  ought  to  be  told,  an' 
I  drove  downtown  in  a  hurry,'  sez  she,  '  f'r  to  tell 
you,'  she  sez,  '  that  I  was  not  in  me  right  mind 
when  you  asked  me  to  marry  you,'  sez  she.  4  So 
I'm  sorry — I'm  so  sorry,'  she  sez,  '  an'  good-by ! 
265 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

an'  wid  that  the  breath  stopped  in  her  an'  she 
gulped,  scairtlike. 

"  '  Phwat! '  sez  he,  bitin'  the  worrud  in  two 
halves.  An'  she  gulped  an'  shook  her  head. 

"  Wid  that  he  began  in  a  wild  way,  clane  f  or- 
gettin'  me  in  the  corner,  me  hat  on  me  two  knees ; 
an'  the  young  lady  was  a  bit  wild,  too,  bein'  very 
young  an'  excited ;  an'  there  they  had  it  like  John 
Drew  an'  his  leadin'  lady  —  quietlike  an'  soft- 
spoken,  but  turrible  as  a  dress-shirt  drama,  till 
she  said:  'No!  No!  No!'  wid  a  little  sob,  an' 
out  o'  the  dure  an'  off,  he  afther  her.  Sorra  the 
sight  av  her  he  got,  with  Farren  hunting  her,  an' 
himself  ridin'  up  an'  down  in  the  cages  when  the 
porther  tould  him  she'd  dodged  an'  gone  up  to 
the  top  floor." 

"  So  that  was  why  he  was  so  ugly,"  said  Leeds 
curiously. 

"  It  was.  He  was  smooth  enough  till  the  lass 
came  in  an'  left  him  her  sweet  little  mitten.  But 
whin  he  came  back,  red  as  a  bottle  o'  Frinch  wine, 
an'  the  two  eyes  o'  him  like  black  holes  burnt  in 
a  blanket — save  us!  All  that  was  close  an'  hard 
an'  mean  an'  sly  an'  bitter  an'  miserly  came  out  in 
the  man,  an'  the  way  he  talked  to  me  av  honest 
work  done  wud  stir  the  neck  hair  on  a  fightin' 
pup.  I  was  wild ;  but  I  sez  to  meself ,  lave  him  talk 
266 


THE   GHOST   OF   CHANCE 

his  talk;  it's  all  wan  on  pay-day.  An'  so  it  is, 
Misther  Leeds;  it  is  so.  GVan  into  ye're  work 
shop,  an'  shpit  on  ye're  hands,  an'  we'll  ploog  that 
key  space  by  5  P.M.,  come  Thursday,  bad  cess  to 
the  bad,  an'  luck  to  the  likes  of  us,  glory  be !  " 

Leeds  stood  half  inside  his  threshold,  the  edge 
of  the  open  door  grasped  in  his  hand,  gazing 
thoughtfully  at  the  floor. 

"  All  right,  McManus,"  he  said  quietly ;  "  I'll 
do  what  I  can  to  save  my  bread,  but  " — he  looked 
straight  at  the  Irishman — "  it's  bitter  bread  we 
learn  to  eat  sometimes — we  who  are  employed." 

"  Troth,  I've  swallyed  worse  nor  that ;  I  have 
so,  Misther  Leeds.  Bide  the  time,  sorr.  An* 
phwin  it  comes  ! — paste  him  wan." 

"Oh,  I'll  have  forgotten  him  by  that  time," 
said  Leeds,  laughing,  as  McManus,  with  a  signifi 
cant  and  powerful  gesture,  turned  on  his  broad 
heel  and  strode  off  toward  his  own  rooms,  where 
Kenna,  his  partner,  had  been  making  frantic  sig 
nals  to  him  for  the  last  five  minutes. 

Leeds  entered  his  studio,  the  Ghost  of  Chance 
at  his  heels,  closing  the  door  behind  him.  Through 
the  golden  gloom  of  the  room  his  huge  picture 
loomed  up,  somber  in  the  subdued  light ;  an  aro 
matic  odor  of  wet  colors  and  siccatif  hung  in 
the  air. 

267 


THE    TREE    OF   HEAVEN 

First,  he  laid  aside  his  overcoat  and  hat,  un 
hooked  from  a  door  peg  a  short  painting  blouse 
and  pulled  it  over  his  head;  then  he  moved  about 
briskly,  opening  ventilators  to  air  the  place,  ma 
nipulating  the  curtains  for  top  and  side  lights, 
dragging  the  carved  mahogany  model  stand  into 
the  position  marked  by  the  chalk  crosses  on  the 
polished  floor.  Presently  he  touched  a  spring; 
the  top  shade  rolled  up  with  a  click;  a  flood  of 
pure  north  light  fell  upon  the  gorgeous  colors  of 
the  canvas.  He  began  to  adjust  the  delicate  ma 
chinery  of  the  complex  easel,  turning  a  silver 
screw  to  regulate  the  pitch  of  the  heavy  canvas, 
twisting  a  cogwheel  here,  a  lever  there,  until  he 
had  brought  that  part  of  the  canvas  within  reach 
whereon  he  expected  to  work. 

He  was  one  of  those  modest,  dissatisfied  young 
men  who  can  never  be  content  with  the  work  done, 
perfectly  aware  of  possibilities  not  yet  attained, 
willing  to  try  for  them,  vaguely  confident  of  at 
taining  them;  a  young  man  who  would  go  far — 
had  gone  far — farther  than  he  realized.  Yet, 
although  the  critics  were  joyously  bellowing  his 
praises  as  the  coming  man,  his  work  so  far  had 
barely  given  him  a  living. 

He  required  great  surfaces  to  cover,  and  the 
beauty  of  the  results  was  apparent  in  the  new 
268 


THE   GHOST   OF   CHANCE 

marble  library,  the  Hotel  Oneida,  the  Theater 
Regent,  and  the  new  Brooklyn  Academy  of  Music. 
Superb  color,  faultless  taste,  vigor,  delicacy — all 
were  his.  The  technique  that  sticks  out  like  dry 
bones,  the  spineless  lack  of  construction,  fads, 
pitiful  eccentricities  to  cover  inability — nothing 
of  these  had  ever,  even  in  his  student  days,  threat 
ened  him  with  the  pitfall  of  common  disaster. 
Nor  was  there  in  his  work  the  faintest  hint  of 
physical  weakness — nothing  unwholesome,  smug, 
suggestive — nothing  sugary,  nothing  insincerely 
brutal;  perhaps  because  he  was  a  very  normal 
young  man,  inclined  to  normal  pleasures,  and 
worldly  enough  to  conform  to  the  civilized  code 
outside  the  barriers  of  which  genius  is  popularly 
supposed  to  pasture. 

And  still,  with  all  this,  he  had  been  paid  so  little 
for  his  work  heretofore,  and  to  produce  his  work 
had  cost  him  so  much  in  materials  and  in  model 
and  studio  hire,  that  he  scarcely  knew  how  to  make 
both  ends  meet  in  the  most  cruelly  expensive 
metropolis  of  all  the  world. 

For  the  first  time,  when  approached  by  Thome, 
he  had  dared  name  a  price  for  his  work  which 
might  give  him  a  decent  profit  when  the  last  brush 
stroke  was  laid  on;  and,  while  Thome's  big  new 
house  slowly  rose,  stone  on  stone,  overlooking  the 
269 


THE   TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

Park,  he  had  worked  on  the  frieze  of  life-size  fig 
ures — two  hundred  in  all — which  was  to  complete 
the  golden  ballroom  with  an  exquisite,  springlike 
garland  of  youth  and  loveliness. 

He  had  accepted  Thome's  cut-throat,  cast-iron 
contract  with  the  deadly  time  clause;  he  had  used 
up  every  second  of  time,  shirking  nothing,  spar 
ing  no  expense;  making  life-size  study  after 
study,  scintillating  with  a  cleverness  that  would 
not  only  have  satisfied  but  turned  the  heads  of 
ninety-nine  painters  in  a  hundred.  But  he  was 
the  hundredth. 

He  had  given  himself  just  time  to  complete  his 
work  and  say :  "  I  can  do  no  better.  I  have  done 
all  that  was  in  me."  But,  though  he  had  foreseen 
trouble  and  delay  from  models,  and  the  dozens  of 
vexations  artists  fall  heir  to,  he  could  not  have 
foreseen  that  a  young  girl  he  never  heard  of 
should,  at  a  critical  moment,  bring  out  a  side  of 
Thome's  character  he  did  not  suspect  existed  in 
him — the  sharp,  ugly  brutality  of  wounded  ar 
rogance,  which  vents  itself  where  opportunity 
offers ;  the  fiercely  sullen  desire  to  hurt,  to  stamp 
its  power  upon  those  who  have  no  defense. 

And  now,  with  the  entire  frieze  all  but  com 
pleted,  the  man  had  suddenly  snarled  at  him — for 
no  reason  on  earth  save  a  willingness  to  crush  and 
270 


THE   GHOST   OF   CHANCE 

dominate.  There  was  not  a  day  of  grace  named 
in  the  contract;  there  was  no  grace  to  be  ex 
pected  from  Thome,  who  cared  no  more  for  the 
frieze  that  hid  part  of  his  golden-lacquered  panel 
ing  than  for  the  gilded  sconces  below.  If  one  or 
the  other  did  not  suit  him,  he'd  tear  them  out 
without  a  word  and  cover  the  raw  space  with  ten 
thousand  dollars'  worth  of  hothouse  roses  for 
his  housewarming.  Leeds  understood  that.  He 
was  beginning  to  appreciate  the  man.  He  must 
try  to  beat  him. 

He  stood  there  confronting  his  defaced  picture, 
examining  it  as  keenly  as  a  physician  might  in 
spect  an  interesting  phase  of  human  misfortune, 
pondering  the  remedy.  And,  as  he  stood,  silent, 
preoccupied,  his  telephone  bell  rang,  and  he 
stepped  to  the  receiver. 

"  Hello !    Is  this  the  Models'  League?  " 

"  Yes,  James  Leeds.  Yes,  I  wanted  a  model 
with  red  hair,  if  possible,  and  good  limbs." 

"  Well,  that  can't  be  helped.  Send  any  model 
as  close  to  Miss  Clancey's  type  as  you  can.  Send 
her  now.  She's  to  take  a  cab.  I'm  in  a  desperate 
hurry." 


271 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

"  Yes,  Miss  Clancej  is  ill.  I  want  a  girl  of  her 
type,  but  don't  waste  time  hunting.  Send  me 

somebody  at  once." 

.  .  .  • 

"All  right.  .  .  .  Good-by!" 

He  hung  up  the  receiver,  walked  back  to 
his  canvas,  and  began  to  set  a  huge  ivory-faced 
palette  table,  squeezing  out  tube  after  tube  of 
color,  rainbow  fashion,  ending  in  a  curly  mass  of 
silver  white.  Then  he  uncorked  a  jar  of  turpen 
tine,  filled  a  bowl  with  it,  and  began  searching 
among  twisted  tubes  and  scrapers  for  an  ivory 
palette  knife,  whistling  thoughtfully  the  while. 

A  slight  sound  behind  one  of  the  great  screens 
attracted  his  attention,  and  he  glanced  up.  Noth 
ing  stirred.  He  sorted  some  paint  rags,  and 
picked  up  a  bottle  of  drying  medium.  As  he  held 
it  to  the  light,  again  a  sudden  sound  came  from 
the  screen ;  he  turned  squarely,  surprised,  and  the 
same  instant  a  girl  stepped  out  and  raised  a  pair 
of  very  lovely  and  frightened  eyes  to  his. 

"Do  you  want  a  model?"  she  asked  sweetly, 
but  unsteadily.  "  Because,  if  you  do " 

"  Good  Heavens !  "  he  said,  exasperated.  "  Have 
you  been  behind  that  screen  all  this*  time  while 
I've  been  telephoning  for  a  model?" 

"  Ye-s.     I — I  came  in.     I  heard  you." 
272 


THE    GHOST   OF   CHANCE 

"But  why  didn't  you  come  out?  Why  on 
earth " 

"  I  think  I  was  a  trifle  frightened." 

"  Oh !  .  .  .  I  see  .  .  .  you  have  never  before 
posed?" 

"  Never.  I — I  really  have  not  made  up  my 
mind  to  pose  now.  I  suppose  I  had  better  do — 
do  something.  I've — the  fact  is,  I've  got  to  do 
something  to  earn  my  living." 

She  was  red-haired,  white-skinned,  blue-eyed, 
shod  and  gloved  to  perfection,  and  plainly  scared. 
He  looked  at  her  from  head  to  foot. 

"  As  a  matter  of  fact,"  he  said,  delighted,  "  you 
are  a  sort  of  God-sent  miracle.  Whether  you 
mean  to  pose  or  not  for  a  living,  I  want  you  to 
pose  for  me  to-day.  Don't  be  frightened;  sit 
down  here  in  this  chair.  I'm  in  desperate  need  of 
somebody.  Won't  you  help  me?  " 

She  looked  at  him  in  breathless  silence. 

"  Won't  you  please  sit  here — just  a  moment?  " 
he  said. 

She  bent  her  head  a  trifle,  and  moved  forward 
to  the  offered  chair  with  a  grace  that  claimed  his 
instant  and  serious  attention.  But  he  had  no  time 
to  wonder  or  speculate  on  the  reasons  -for  such  a 
woman  with  such  a  presence  being  in  his  studio 
to  seek  employment;  he  took  a  chair  opposite, 
273 


THE   TREE   OF  HEAVEN 

scrutinizing  her  fresh  young  beauty  with  frank 
approval.  Indeed,  he  heartily  approved  of  every 
thing  about  her — the  masses  of  red-gold  hair,  the 
lovely  azure-tinted  eyes,  the  wonderfully  paintable 
white  skin. 

"  Your  coloring — your  figure — your  hands  are 
beautiful,"  he  said  slowly.  "  I  can  give  you  all 
day  to-day,  and  I'll  take  all  the  time  you  can  give 
me  to-morrow.  You  see,  that  canvas  must  be  fin 
ished  to-day,  be  dry  by  to-morrow,  and  be  deliv 
ered  Thursday.  Tell  me,  is  it  only  head  and 
shoulders  and  costume,  or  will  you  pose  without 
drapery  for " 

A  bright  flush  stained  her  face.  "  I — I  am  not 
a  model !  "  she  stammered. 

"  Not  a  model,"  he  repeated  blankly.  "  Oh,  no, 
of  course  not — I  forgot." 

"  Did  you— do  I  look  like—"  Words  failed  her ; 
she  glanced  appalled  at  the  canvas,  then  straight 
at  him,  self-possessed  again,  but  paler. 

"  I  can't  help  what  you  think  of  me,"  she  said. 
"  I  am  perfectly  aware  of  my  indiscretion — but 
your  door  was  open  and  this — this  is  my  hour  of 
need." 

"  Certainly,"  he  said,  soothingly,  "  I  see " 

"  No,  you  don't  see !  I  came  in  here  to — to 
hide!  By  and  by  I  shall  go  out."  She  sat  up 
274 


THE   GHOST   OF   CHANCE 

very  straight.  "  I  am  determined,"  she  said,  "  to 
remain  concealed  here  until  I  can  leave  this  build 
ing  without  annoyance.  May  I?  "  She  ended  so 
sweetly,  so  piteously,  that  Leeds  caught  his  breath 
in  astonishment. 

"  So — may  I  stay  here  for  a  while?  " 

"  Well,  there's  a  model  coming  to  pose  for  that 
figure — if  you  refuse  to  pose " 

"  Which  figure  ?  "  demanded  the  girl. 

"  That  one  on  the  left — the  one  that  is  scraped 
down." 

"  You  mean  that  I  couldn't  stay  here  while  you 
painted?" 

"  I  don't  believe  you  would  care  to.  You 
wouldn't  bother  me,  but  I  don't  think  you'd 
care  to." 

"  Why  ?  "  The  blue  eyes  met  his  so  purely,  so 
fearlessly,  that  he  gave  her  a  frank  and  gentle 
answer. 

"  Oh !  Then — then  hadn't  you  better  dismiss 
your  model  for  the  day  ?  "  she  said,  "  because  I've 
got  to  stay." 

"  But  I  can't.  The  paint  on  that  canvas  is 
exactly  in  the  right  condition,  neither  too  wet  nor 
too  dry.  I've  simply  got  to  use  a  drier,  and  paint 
on  it  now.  That  picture  must  be  dry  to-morrow." 

"Must  it— truly?" 

275 


THE    TREE    OF   HEAVEN 

"  It  certainly  must !  " 

The  girl  rose,  stood  for  a  moment  nervously 
twisting  her  veil  up  over  her  hat ;  then :  "  But  I 
can't  go !  You  don't  understand.  I've — I've  run 
away ! " 

"Run  away!     From  whom?" 

"  Somebody,"  she  said  vaguely,  looking  about 
the  room.  Suddenly  he  remembered  the  story 
McManus  told.  And  he  spoke  of  it,  watching  her 
curiously. 

"  Exactly,"  she  said,  nodding  her  pretty  head, 
while  the  tint  of  excitement  deepened  on  her 
cheeks,  "  I  ran  away  from  him !  You  know  who 
I  am,  don't  you?  You  know  my  sister,  any 
how." 

She  hesitated,  searching  his  face;  then  im 
pulsively  :  "  I  usually  decide  all  matters  very 
quickly !  "  She  made  an  impatient  little  gesture 
and  seated  herself,  looking  up  at  him  with  bright 
eyes  and  heightened  color :  "  For  three  months  I've 
stood  it " 

"Stood  what?" 

"  Being  engaged.  I  had  not  really  thought 
much  about  it — we're  usually  indifferent  and  obe 
dient  in  my  family — and  no  doubt  I'd  have  gone 
on  and  married  just  as  my  sisters  have — if  some 
thing  had  not  happened."  She  dropped  her  head, 
276 


THE   GHOST   OF   CHANCE 

looking  thoughtfully  at  the  floor.  Then :  "  I  sim 
ply  could  not  stand  him,  Mr.  Leeds;  I  woke  up 
this  morning,  understanding  that  I  couldn't  marry 
him.  I  was  so  excited — and  dreadfully  afraid  of 
telling  him — and  I  was  so  sorry  for  my  mother, 
but  I  couldn't  do  it ;  I  knew  that,  and  it  was  time 
he  knew,  too. 

"  So  I  told  my  mother,  and  there  was  trouble, 
and  I  went  out  and  found  a  cab  and  drove  here 
as  fast  as  I  could,  and  I  said :  '  Mr.  Thorne,  I 
cannot  do  it ! '  You  know  what  I  said.  That 
Irishman  told  you 

Leeds  nodded. 

"  So  that's  all ;  I  simply  ran  away  from  him ; 
and  I  won't  go  home  and  live  on  my  mother,  be 
cause  we  are  as  poor  as  mice  and  rabbits,  and  if 
I  don't  marry  Mr.  Thorne  my  mother  will  prob 
ably  expire  of  mortification,  and  if  I  don't  marry 
at  all  by  Monday  next,  I'll  lose  what  my  grand 
father  left  me  in  a  horrid  will,  which  forces  me 
to  marry  before  I'm  twenty-one — and  that's  next 
Monday.  All  my  sisters  did  it — Mrs.  Egerton, 
and  Mrs.  Clay-Dwyning,  and  another  you  don't 
know.  But  I  won't,  I  won't,  /  won't !  And  my 
mother  will  probably  starve  unless  I  earn  our  liv 
ing,  so  I'd  better  begin  at  once." 

"  I  think  you  had,  too,"  said  Leeds  gravely. 
277 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

"  Oh,  I  thought  of  that  when  I  was  running 
away  from  Mr.  Thorne;  and  when  he  came  up  in 
one  elevator,  I  came  down;  and  when  he  came 
down  I  went  up,  and  I  turned  into  the  first  cor 
ridor  I  saw,  and  entered  somebody's  office  and  shut 
the  door. 

"  A  man  came  to  ask  me  what  I  wanted.  And 
I  asked  him  if  he  required  a  stenographer,  and  he 
said  he  did — very  offensively — so  I  marched  out 
and  walked  about  the  hallways  trying  to  find  my 
way  out.  Then  I  heard  Mr.  Thome's  voice  on 
the  stairs,  and  I  opened  your  door  and  hid.  And 
before  I  had  courage  to  leave,  you  came  and 
talked  and  talked  with  that  Irishman.  And  now 
what  am  I  to  do?  You  know  who  I  am,  and  you 
know  my  sisters — or  you  did  once,  before  you 
went  abroad  to  study — for  they've  told  me  they 
knew  you  at  Narragansett  when  you  were  a  boy 
of  twelve." 

"  Are  you  their  little  sister,  Naida?  "  he  asked 
curiously,  when  she  stopped,  clean  out  of  breath, 
flushed  and  fascinating  in  her  consternation. 

"  Yes ;  I'm  Naida.  Do  you  really  remember 
me?  I  wish  I  could  be  civil  and  say  the  same  to 
you,  but  I  don't,  Mr.  Leeds,  though  since  every 
body  says  you  are  a  very  great  artist,  I  pretend 
I  do  know  you,  and  I  say :  '  Oh,  yes,  James  Leeds ; 
278 


THE    GHOST   OF   CHANCE 

he  was  such  a  jolly  fellow  when  he  was  a  boy  at 
Narragansett ! ' 

"  But  I'm  careful  not  to  tell  them  that  I  was 
so  little  that  you  never  even  looked  at  me,  or  that 
I  was  so  young  I  couldn't  remember  you.  Oh, 
dear,  what  frauds  we  all  are!  And  here  I  am, 
compromising  myself  and  not  caring,  after  having 
driven  my  mother  distracted,  jilted  my  fiance,  and 
beggared  myself.  I  think  I'd  better  pose  for  you." 

"Will  you?" 

"  Why,  coward  that  I  am,  I  don't  want  to  face 
the  consequences  of  my  own  deeds.  But  I  won't  go 
back  after  smashing  the  finances  so  dreadfully." 

"  Suppose  you  help  me  a  little,  then.  And 
while  you're  helping  me  to  avert  financial  ruin 
we'll  talk  of  your  future,"  he  said  laughingly. 

She  looked  up  quickly.  "  I  heard  what  you  and 
that  Irishman  were  saying.  Are  you  truly  in 
trouble  about  your  picture  ?  " 

"  All  kinds  of  trouble,"  he  assented. 

"  Could  I  really  help  you?  " 

"  Indeed  you  could." 

"  Of  course,  I  would  compromise  myself, 
wouldn't  I?"  she  asked  innocently.  "I've  been 
doing  it  all  day,  haven't  I?  " 

He  sat  there  perplexed,  fascinated,  watching 
her  in  silence. 

19  279 


THE   TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

She  shrugged  her  pretty  shoulders.  A  rather 
valuable  fur  stole  slipped  down  to  the  floor,  and 
he  picked  it  up  and  sat  smoothing  it  and  watch 
ing  the  exquisite  color  wane  and  deepen  in  her 
cheeks. 

The  telephone  rang.  He  rose  and  set  the  re 
ceiver  to  his  ear. 

"  No,  that  model  won't  do.  You  need  not  send 
anybody  now ;  I  have  exactly  the  model  I  require. 
Good-by." 

Turning  to  her  he  said :  "  You  heard  me  say 
that  I  needed  no  model.  Will  you  help  me  now? 
This  is  an  hour  of  direst  need  with  me." 

«  i_i  don't  know " 

"  Will  you?  If  you  will,  I  will  promise  to  help 
you — not  to  become  an  artist's  model ;  that  is  silly. 
But  I  promise  you,  on  my  honor,  that  you  shall 
have  an  offer  which  no  woman  need  refuse;  an 
offer  suitable  and  honorable,  where  you  may  en 
joy  absolute  independence  and  freedom  from  all 
annoyance,  live  your  own  life  freely,  without  tax 
ing  your  mother's  resources,  and  without  care  or 
dread  of  importunities  from  anybody  attempting 
to  marry  you.  Will  you?  " 

"  If — if  you  could  do  that  for  me  I'd  be  grate 
ful  enough  to  do  anything  for  you,"  she  said 
slowly. 

280 


THE   GHOST   OF   CHANCE 

The  Ghost  of  Chance  sat  watching  them.  His 
job  was  nearly  ended. 

A  curious  exhilaration,  a  gayety  rather  foreign 
to  Leeds's  nature,  took  possession  of  him.  He 
lifted  a  beautiful  garment,  all  stiff  with  turquoise 
and  gold,  and  held  it  toward  her.  He  laid  two 
jeweled  sandals  at  her  feet,  pulled  a  table  to  the 
screen,  and  opened  a  box  full  of  glittering  gilded 
articles. 

There  was  color  enough  in  her  face  now,  flood 
ing  it  from  brow  to  throat. 

"  Won't  you  help  me  ?  "  he  asked.  "  It  is  ruin 
for  me  if  you  don't." 

She  searched  his  face.  There  was  nothing  in 
the  eyes  that  a  woman  might  not  look  upon,  might 
not  meet  with  a  smile,  might  not  respond  to.  She 
measured  him  in  breathless  silence,  red  lips  parted. 
He  was  her  own  kind. 

"Will  you?" 

"  Yes." 

Then  excitement  transfigured  him.  She  scarcely 
knew  his  face,  lighted  into  quick  enthusiasm. 

"  Never,  never,  have  I  had  such  a  model !  "  he 
cried,  delighted  as  a  boy.  "  Never  have  I  seen  such 
color,  such  exquisite  loveliness.  Good  Heavens ! 
A  man  might  really  paint  with  you  before  him! 
Don't  —  don't  look  at  me  that  way  —  don't  be 
281 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

frightened.  I'm  simply  astonished  at  my  fortune 
— I  don't  mean  to  be  rude — you  know  I  don't !  " 

"  Yes,  I  know  it,"  she  said  tremulously. 

"  May  I  suggest  how  you  should  tie  the  san 
dals?" 

"  Am  I  to— to  be  barefooted?  " 

"  With  sandals,  you  know,  and  that  gorgeous 
gold  and  blue  Byzantine  robe  hung  straight  from 
the  shoulders !  Everything  is  here.  I'll  step  out 
and  smoke  a  cigarette.  Will  you  knock  when  you 
are  ready  ?  " 

She  nodded,  looking  down  at  the  crumpled  heaps 
of  gold  and  turquoise  stuff. 

Enchanted  he  saw  her  raise  her  pretty  arms  and 
begin  to  unpin  her  hat,  with  its  floating  veil.  Then 
he  went  out. 

For  half  an  hour  he  walked  the  resounding  cor 
ridor,  smoking  madly.  Once  or  twice  he  doubted 
her — half  convinced  that  she  meant  to  lock  him 
out — and  the  idea  scared  him.  But  at  last  a  low 
knocking  on  the  inside  of  the  door  summoned  him ; 
he  entered,  blinking  in  the  flood  of  light  after  the 
darkness  of  the  hallway,  and  the  vision  was  revealed 
slowly  to  his  dazzled  eyes. 

White — a  trifle  too  pale ;  her  eyes  burned 
like  azure  stars  under  the  gold-red  glory  of 
her  hair,  which  fell  in  two  loose,  heavy  braids 
282 


THE   GHOST   OF   CHANCE 

straight  down,  framing  her  body  from  shoulders 
to  hips.  The  rounded  throat,  the  white  arms 
glimmering  along  the  seams  of  the  blue  and  golden 
robe,  the  sandals  accenting  the  snowy  feet — and 
in  her  eyes  the  straight,  fearless  gaze  of  a  child- 
left  him  mute,  stunned,  utterly  spellbound,  over 
whelmed  by  a  magic  that  sometimes  wears  another 
name. 

She  did  not  need  to  ask  his  criticism.  The  faint 
rose  color  came  into  her  face  again  slowly. 

She  turned  and  mounted  the  model  stand  with 
out  a  word,  seating  herself  in  the  carved  marble 
chair ;  and,  glancing  at  the  painted  figure,  let  her 
arms  fall  in  harmony  with  the  drawing.  Then 
she  placed  one  little  sandal-shod  foot  upon  the 
silken  cushion  at  her  feet.  When  she  looked 
up,  with  a  pale  smile,  he  had  already  begun  to 
paint. 

His  hand,  not  steady  at  first — for  a  new  emotion 
had  given  him  new  eyes — became  steadier.  Mag 
nificent  tints  and  hues  grew  upon  the  canvas,  stiff 
gold  folds  and  creases  shimmered,  framing  the 
snowy  contours  of  perfect  arms. 

The  glory  of  hair,  the  wonder  of  wide  azure- 
tinted   eyes,  the  lips    full   scarlet,    all  took   color 
and  loveliness  as  his  brushes  flew.     And  into  the 
picture  came  something  else — a  joyousness,  a  tint 
283 


THE    TREE    OF   HEAVEN 

of   youth    and    freshness,   and   something   subtle, 
indefinable. 

And  now  he  seemed  to  hold  the  whole  power  of 
the  world  in  his  grasp.  The  color-wet  point  of 
every  brush  hovered,  then  left  its  message  of 
beauty  on  an  enchanted  canvas.  Power  was  his ; 
he  dominated;  he  could  do  anything,  achieve  any 
thing — with  her  before  him.  Difficulties?  There 
were  none.  He  had  but  to  wet  a  brush  with  purest 
tints,  look  her  in  the  eyes,  and  the  thing  was 
wrought. 

Twice  she  rested.  He  said  nothing,  nor  did  she, 
and,  when  she  was  ready,  he  went  on.  But  already 
the  work  was  done — finished !  He  lingered  over  it, 
thrilled,  touching  it  here  and  there  fearlessly,  with 
the  silent  certainty  of  mastery. 

At  last  he  lay  back  on  his  chair,  and  the  arm 
supporting  his  palette  dropped  to  his  side. 

"  Won't  you  have  mercy  ?  "  she  asked  in  a  low 
voice. 

"  Are  you  tired  ?  Oh,  I  am  so  sorry !  "  he  cried, 
springing  to  his  feet. 

She  rose.  He  held  out  his  hand.  She  laid  hers 
on  his  arm  and  descended. 

"  You  are  terribly  tired !  "  he  said  anxiously,  al 
most  tenderly. 

"  No — but — I  am  a  little — hungry." 
284 


THE   GHOST   OF   CHANCE 

He  dragged  out  his  watch.  "  Good  Lord !  It's 
four  —  almost  dark !  "  he  cried.  "  What  a  —  a 
beast  I  am !  I  must  be  crazy !  " 

She  stood  smiling  beside  him,  looking  curiously 
at  the  picture  in  the  fading  light. 

"  Am  I  as — as  glorious  as  that !  "  she  said  under 
her  breath.  It  was  not  a  question,  besides  he 
scarcely  dared  answer,  for  the  magic  was  thick 
about  him. 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  said  slowly,  "  there  is  some 
thing  in  that  canvas  that  I  have  never  before 
seen?" 

"What  is  it?" 

"  The — the  eyes  you  have  given  me — as  though 
I  had  just  opened  them  on  paradise." 

"  They  are  like  yours." 

"  But  I — I  never  saw  paradise.  What  a  heav 
enly  beauty  you  have  given  me.  My  soul  was  never 
as  untroubled  as  is  hers — the  lovely,  snowy,  golden 
saint  you  have  raised  up  on  my  shadow.  What 
eyes  do  you  see  with  to  work  such  miracles  ?  " 

"  You  are  the  miracle.  I  never  painted  like  that 
until  you  came." 

She  turned  to  look  at  him.     And,  perhaps,  the 
magic  light  was  strong  enough  to  dazzle  her,  too, 
for  she  thought  there  was  something  in  his  eyes 
that  he  had  painted  into  hers  upon  the  canvas. 
285 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

For  a  little  while  they  stood  silent.  Then  she 
raised  her  head.  "  And  now?  "  she  questioned. 

"Now?" 

"Yes.     What  am  I  to  do?" 

He  gazed  at  her  blankly.  "  You  are  not  going 
away?" 

"  Your  picture  is  finished." 

"  Yes,  but  where  are  you  going  ?  " 

"  Where  ?  "  She  pressed  her  white  hand  over 
her  brow.  "I  —  I  don't  exactly  know.  I  —  I 
thought  you  had  a  plan 

"  As  long  as  you  have  run  away,"  he  began 
slowly " 

"  Yes  ?  And  as  long  as  I  have  done  all  the  dread 
ful  things  I  have  done.  Go  on !  " 

"  All  those  dreadful  things " 

"  Yes ;  all  those  common  horrid  things.    Go  on." 

"  I— I  think " 

«  Yes " 

"  That  we — that  we  might  further  degrade  our 
selves  by 

«  Yes— go  on !  " 

"  By  taking  tea  together." 

"Do  you  think  so?" 

"  I  do,"  he  said  solemnly. 

She  reflected  for  a  moment.  "  But  what  after 
that?" 

286 


THE    GHOST   OF   CHANCE 

"  We  must  consider  the  situation  at  the  tea 
table,"  he  said  gravely.  "  We'll  go  out  as  soon  as 
you  can  change  your  gown.  And — is  there  any 
likelihood  of  our  jumping  any  of  your  family  if  we 
go  to  Sherry's?" 

"  I'll  risk  it,"  she  said  slowly. 
"  Then,"  and  he  smiled  at  her  through  a  rosy 
light  which  really  didn't  exist,  "  then  I'll  go  out 
and  smoke  until  you  are  ready." 

And  he  did,  no  longer  tormented  with  the  fears 
of  being  locked  out,  and  presently  she  opened  the 
door  and  stood  a  moment  on  the  threshold,  looking 
at  him. 

"  I  wonder,"  she  said,  "  if  ever  a  girl  has  done 
as  mad  a  thing  as  I  have  to-day  ?  " 

She  stepped  out  and  closed  the  door  behind 
her. 

"  Listen,"  she  said ;  "  a  thousand  dreadful  ques 
tions  are  on  my  lips — tortured  pride  refuses  to 
ask  for  mercy — but — oh,  I  do  care  to  know  what 
you  think  of  me !  " 

He  told  her  as  much  as  he  dared  tell,  haltingly, 
stammering  under  the  enchantment  thickening 
always  around  them. 

«  YOU— you  think— that?  " 

"  More.    May— shall  I  say " 

"  Not— not  now." 

287 


THE   TREE   OF  HEAVEN 

Dazed,  their  young  heads  turned,  they  descended 
the  marble  steps  together. 

Elevator  boys,  hall  servants,  the  gorgeous  por 
ter  in  his  green  and  gilt  livery,  stared  at  the  run 
away.  She  passed  them,  head  high. 

"  There  is  going  to  be  a  great  deal  of  trouble 
about  nothing,  I  fear,"  she  said  softly,  as  they 
walked  out  into  Fifth  Avenue. 

"  I  fear  so,"  he  mused. 

"  You — you  will  probably  be  evicted  by  Mr. 
Thorne  when  the  porter  tells  him  where  I've  been." 

"  Probably,"  he  smiled. 

"  Where  will  you  go  when  you  are  evicted?  " 

"  Where  are  you  going?  " 

She  glanced  at  him  sweetly.  "  To  tea — with 
you." 

"  And  after  that?  "  he  asked  unsteadily. 

But  she  pretended  not  to  hear  him,  repeating, 
"  To  tea  with  the  great  artist,  Mr.  Leeds.  Oh,  you 
are  surprised  that  I  know  how  great  you  are?  Did 
you  think  I  didn't  know?  Dear  me,  don't  my  sis 
ters  talk  of  you  as  though  our  family  discovered 
you?" 

"  That  settles  it  then,"  he  said,  enchanted. 

"  What  settles  what,  if  you  please  ?  " 

"  My  status.  I'm  one  of  your  family  and  en 
titled  to  advise  you." 

288 


THE    GHOST   OF   CHANCE 

A  moment  later  two  flushed  young  people  en 
tered  Sherry's,  utterly  oblivious  of  cloak  rooms, 
bellboys,  and  butlers,  and  instinctively  chose  a 
remote  table  secluded  in  a  corner,  banked  high  with 
verdure. 

They  may  have  had  tea.  They  were  so  absorbed 
in  talking  to  each  other  that  they  not  only  paid 
no  attention  to  what  they  ordered,  but  did  not 
notice  whether  they  had  eaten  anything  or  not, 
when  the  early  winter  night  found  them  on  Fifth 
Avenue  once  more,  strolling  slowly  uptown,  ab 
sorbed  in  one  another  to  the  exclusion  of  time  and 
similar  unimportant  trifles. 

She  was  saying  in  that  full-throated  sweet  voice, 
pitched  a  trifle  lower  than  the  roar  of  traffic,  "  Yes, 
I  do  trust  you.  I  have  been  horrid  and  common 
and  silly  to  go  dashing  around  that  trust  company, 
but  you  are  perfectly  lovely  to  understand,  and 
I'll  do  exactly  what  you  tell  me  to  do — except " 

"What?" 

"  Oh— you  wouldn't  ask  me  that !  " 

"What?" 

"  To — to  marry  him " 

"  Good  God,"  he  breathed. 

After  a  silence  he  said :  "  I  have  promised  you 
an  offer.  But  first  you  must  go  back  as  though 
nothing  had  happened." 

289 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

"  Yes,  I  will.  There's  no  use  in  my  going  to  a 
hotel  like  a  silly,  romantic  creature,  and  starting 
out  to  look  for  work  in  the  morning.  Besides,  my 
mother  would  be  frantic  and  call  up  the  police. 
Besides,  I  haven't  enough  money  to  really  run 
away ;  I  have  only  a  dollar  and  some  pennies." 

"  Home  is  the  place  for  you,"  he  said,  laughing 
under  his  breath.  "  When  am  I  to  come  to  tell  you 
about  my  plan  for  you  ?  " 

"  You'd  better  hurry,"  she  said  sincerely.  "  I'll 
probably  lose  courage  and  be  bullied  into  some 
thing  or  other  if  you  don't." 

"  May  I  come  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  No ;  there's  a  luncheon  I  don't  dare  cut  out, 
and  in  the  evening  there's  a  dance  at  the  Carring- 
tons'.  Do  you — do  you  ever  go  about?  I  go  to 
the  Lanarks'  dance  to-night " 

"  I  was  asked  to  that  dance,  too " 

"Oh!"  she  cried  enraptured,  "  will  you  come? 
Please — please!  If  you  don't,  I  won't  go.  Mr. 
Thorne  will  be  there,  and  between  mamma  and 
him  I'll  be  driven  into  something  before  I  know 
it.  Will  you?" 

"  Yes,  I  will.  And  I'll  do  more,"  he  added  under 
his  breath ;  "  I'll  lay  that  offer  before  you." 

"  That  will  be  perfectly  delightful!  You  won't 
fail,  will  you?  And  " — she  paused  at  the  door  of 
290 


THE   GHOST   OF   CHANCE 

her  own  house  and  gave  him  a  small  gloved  hand 
— "  and  I  want  to  tell  you  how  happy  I  am  to  have 
helped  you,  and  how  glad  I  am  that  you  are  able 
to  keep  to  that  wicked  contract,  and  that  I  have 
had  a  perfectly  lovely  time,  and  I  shall  never — 
never  forget  how  nice  you  have  been  even  if  I  have 
behaved  like  a  brainless  ninny.  And  I  am  so  glad 
you  don't  think  me  as  horrid  as  I  seemed  to  be.  I 
was  reckless  for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  and  did 
all  those  desperate  things  because  I've  been — I've 
been  a  trifle  unhappy." 

And  so  he  left  her,  the  door  opening  to  engulf 
her,  she  turning  her  pretty  head  to  nod  to  him  as 
it  closed.  And  he  went  away  soberly,  walking  up 
the  dark  avenue  under  the  flaring  electric  lights, 
absorbed,  almost  stunned,  by  what  had  come  so 
suddenly  into  a  life  that,  but  a  few  hours  since, 
had  seemed  to  him  too  full,  too  complete,  to  hold 
anything  except  the  love  he  bore  for  his  profession. 

He  dined  at  the  club  where  he  lived,  read  the 
evening  papers,  scarcely  conscious  of  what  he  was 
reading,  then  went  upstairs  to  his  room,  sat  a  long 
while  on  the  bed's  edge,  staring  at  vacancy,  and 
finally  lay  down,  closing  his  eyes.  The  Ghost  of 
Chance  stood  by  the  bed  a  moment,  considering 
his  victim. 

Hour  after  hour  he  lay  there,  thinking  as  clearly 
291 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

as  the  tumult  in  his  breast  permitted.  Later  he 
bathed,  dressed  very  carefully,  and,  descending, 
climbed  into  a  hansom. 

"  I've  a  ghost  of  a  chance,"  he  muttered. 
"  Thorne  told  me  to  take  it  once,  and  his  advice 
was  good.  Now,  I'll  try  it  again — for  I  have  got 
a  ghost  of  a  chance  again,  and  I'll  take  that  chance 
to-night !  " 

And  so  he  came  to  the  great  house  of  the  La- 
narkses,  overlooking  the  wintry  park,  and  he 
climbed  out  of  his  humble  hansom  amid  the  cluster 
ing  clatter  of  the  rich  and  great  and  agreeable, 
and  entered  the  house  which  he  might  not  have 
troubled  himself  to  enter,  had  a  young  girl  with 
red  hair  and  wonderful  blue  eyes  not  asked 
him. 

After  drifting  about  in  the  scented  crush  for 
half  an  hour,  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  her  sur 
rounded  by  a  dozen  men,  among  them  a  diplomat 
or  two,  and  several  attaches ;  and  now,  with  the 
intention  of  claiming  her,  he  marked  her  down  in 
the  glittering  throng  as  carefully  as  he  might 
have  marked  a  flushed  quail  in  a  thicket  of  golden 
willow. 

But  when,  pressing  his  way  through  barriers 
of  black  coats  and  threading  half  an  acre  of 
rustling  silk  and  lace,  he  found  the  spot  where  he 
292 


THE    GHOST   OF   CHANCE 

had  expected  to  find  her,  she  was  no  longer  there ; 
only  the  red  fez  of  the  Turkish  Ambassador,  nod 
ding  affably  above  the  press,  indicated  that  he 
had  reached  the  spot  upon  the  floor  that  he  had 
aimed  at. 

Glancing  up  at  the  gilded  musicians'  gallery 
to  verify  his  bearings,  he  struck  a  circle,  as  he 
would  have  done  in  the  woods,  and  presently  came 
across  young  Terriss,  who  was  also  in  love  with 
her — but  Leeds  did  not  know  that. 

"Thome  took  her  off,"  said  Terriss  sullenly. 
"  They're  in  the  conservatory.  By  the  way,  I 
didn't  know  you  knew  her." 

"  I  do,"  growled  Leeds. 

"  That  pasty-white  Russian  prince,  the  fellow 
with  a  fat  face  and  a  thin  nose  splitting  a  brace 
of  eyes  too  close  together  " — Terriss  shrugged  his 
shoulders — "  he's  hanging  about,  looking  for  her, 
too.  Her  mother  steered  him  off.  I  suppose  it  will 
be  announced  to-night." 

Leeds  saw  her  mother  and  recalled  himself  to 
her  memory,  and  her  mother's  cordiality  surprised 
and  flattered  him  until  he  found  he  could  not  get 
past  her  to  the  conservatory. 

Meanwhile  the  musicians  were  playing  away 
madly.  He  attempted  to  dodge  her,  affably  ex 
plaining  that  it  was  his  dance  with  her  daughter. 
293 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

"  But  Naida  is  not  in  here,"  said  her  mother, 
carefully  riding  him  off. 

"  Terriss  said " 

"  Doubtless,"  continued  her  mother  cheerfully, 
"  Naida  is  waiting  for  you  with  Constance.  Do 
you  remember  my  daughter  Constance?  If  you 
take  me  across,  Mr.  Leeds,  we  can  find  Naida." 

Steered  off,  vaguely  aware  of  too  much  sweet 
ness  in  the  matron's  guileless  smile,  he  looked  back 
and  beheld  the  girl  he  was  seeking  emerging  from 
the  thicket  of  palms  with  Thorne,  followed  by  a 
heavy  and  very  white  young  man,  with  rings  on 
his  fingers  and  under  his  eyes. 

The  girl  looked  at  Leeds  as  though  she  had  never 
before  seen  him.  For  a  moment,  as  he  instinctively 
stepped  forward,  they  faced  one  another  in  silence. 
Then  a  faint  recognition  animated  her  eyes.  She 
looked  at  Thorne,  at  the  Russian,  at  her  mother, 
then,  as  Leeds  said  a  conventional  but  decisive  word 
or  two,  she  smiled,  laid  one  hand  on  his  shoulder 
as  he  encircled  her  waist  with  his  right  arm,  nod 
ded  at  her  mother,  and  glided  off  into  the  glit 
ter  with  a  man  who  danced  well  enough  to  leave 
her  indifferent  and  occupied  with  her  own  re 
flections. 

How  long  she  had  been  dancing  with  him  she 
did  not  know,  nor  care,  when  his  voice  roused  her 
294 


THE    GHOST   OF   CHANCE 

from  a  meditation   that  had  left  her  red  mouth 
sullen  and  her  eyebrows  bent. 

"What  did  you  say?"  she  asked.  "I  beg 
your  pardon " 

"  Nothing.  I  wondered  whether  you  were  bored  ? 
I  dance  pretty  well,  you  know." 

"  You  dance  very  well.     Do  I  look  bored  ?  " 

"  You  certainly  do." 

"  I  am." 

They  swung  out  through  the  center  of  the  per 
fumed  crush  a  little  recklessly,  but  with  sufficient 
skill. 

"  I  wish  you  would  look  at  me — once,"  he  said. 
"  What  has  happened  since  we  parted  ?  " 

She  raised  her  eyes,  amused.  "  The  inevitable. 
I  couldn't  escape." 

"  I  can't  give  you  up  yet  to  your  own  reflec 
tions,"  he  said.  "  You  dance  too  perfectly.  What 
do  you  mean  by  the  '  inevitable  '  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it  is  not  you  or  the  dancing  that  I  meant ! 
You  must  not  mind  me ;  I  am  likely  to  say  anything 
to-night." 

"Anything?" 

"  Absolutely  anything  to  anybody."    She  raised 
her  eyes  again  to  his  face.     It  was  a  cleanly  mod 
eled    countenance,   rather   lean  —  not   at   all   like 
Thome's  or  Prince  Minksky's. 
20  295 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

A  vague  feeling  of  being  at  home  again  after 
a  foreign  tour  came  over  her,  a  comfortable 
sensation,  lasting  for  a  second  —  time  enough 
to  contrast  his  amiable  features  with  the  fea 
tures  of  the  man  she  had  been  with  in  the  con 
servatory. 

Constantly  passing  dancers  nodded  to  them,  ex 
changed  a  word  or  two  or  a  brief  smile — Terriss 
with  a  pretty  girl  who  called  her  Naida,  the  Brit 
ish  third  secretary,  very  gay  in  his  greeting,  doz 
ens  and  dozens,  all  whirling  by ;  and  through  the 
brilliant  glare,  the  scented  breezy  wavering  scene, 
Leeds  guided  the  girl  with  the  ruddy  gold  hair  and 
the  sulky  mouth — sulky,  for  she  was  preoccupied 
again,  oblivious  of  all  in  her  perfect  grace  and 
poise,  swinging  where  he  led,  as  easily,  as  uncon 
sciously  as  a  wind-blown  bird  floating  half  asleep 
in  the  flow  of  the  upper  air. 

"  If  you  are  really  too  much  bored,"  he 
breathed — 

She  looked  up  disturbed.  "  I  told  you  it  was 
not  you.  You  don't  bore  me.  You  don't  know 
me  well  enough." 

"  Is  there  no  chance  that  I  might  know  you 
better?" 

"  No,  no  chance." 

"May  I  try  it?" 

296 


THE   GHOST   OF   CHANCE 

Her  beautiful  brows  unbent.  "  Why,  yes,  try 
it ;  but  I  am  not  worth  the  effort." 

"  Very  well.  For  this  evening  you  and  I  will 
speak  the  absolute  and  unvarnished  truth;  shall 
we?  You  may  ask  me  whatever  you  care  to ;  I  will 
ask  you.  Dare  you  ?  " 

She  had  shaken  her  head  first,  but  at  the  word 
"  dare "  her  indifference  changed  to  a  slight 
amusement. 

"  Oh,  I  dare  anything  to-night,"  she  said. 
"  What  question  am  I  to  answer?  " 

"Is  it  a  bargain  that  we  tell  the  truth?"  he 
persisted. 

"  Certainly,  if  it  amuses  you.  It  won't  amuse 
me." 

"  And  I  may  venture  to  be  cheerfully  imperti 
nent?  " 

She  nodded,  smiling. 

"  Then  tell  me  why  you  asked  me  to  come  to  this 
dance?" 

She  hesitated.  A  little  more  color  crept  into  her 
face. 

"  Am  I  to  answer  truthfully?  " 

"  You  promised." 

Then  her  entire  personality  changed  with  an  im 
pulse  as  illogical,  as  sudden  as  any  caprice  that 
ever  swept  over  a  heart  too  young  to  bear  bitterness. 
297 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

"  I  asked  you,"  she  said,  "  to  come  because — 
because  I  was  happy  with  you  to-day.  But  now 
— now  it  is  too  late.  I  am  for  sale  once  more. 
.  .  .  Will  you  buy  me  ?  " 

"  Willingly,"  he  returned,  amazed  but  smil 
ing. 

"  Too  late,"  she  said,  looking  up ;  "I  have  sold 
myself." 

They  were  on  the  outer  edge  of  the  whirl  now. 
Her  hand  slid  from  his  shoulder,  and  she  stepped 
back,  flushed,  brilliant-eyed,  perfectly  self-pos 
sessed. 

"  Thank  you  for  offering  to  purchase,"  she 
laughed,  looking  him  straight  in  the  face.  "  Shall 
we  finish  the  dance?  I  am  ready." 

"  Let  me  see  your  card,"  he  said  coolly.  She 
held  out  the  cluster  of  ivory  and  gold  filigree  for 
his  inspection. 

"  I  thought  you  had  undertaken  to  amuse  me," 
she  observed.  "  I  didn't  bargain  to  amuse  you." 
Her  blue  eyes  were  too  brilliant,  her  color  almost 
feverish  now. 

"  I  am  going  to,"  he  said.  "  But  I  warn  you, 
you  may  not  like  it." 

"  Try.     Perhaps  I  may." 

"  I'm  going  to  rub  out  these  names,"  he  said, 
watching  her. 

298 


THE    GHOST   OF    CHANCE 

"  That  will  be  deliciously  rude  and  impertinent. 
Do  it.  Can  you  think  of  anything  else?  " 

"  Oh,  yes !  "  he  said,  filling  in  the  card  with  his 
own  name. 

"  Let  me  see,"  she  breathed,  looking  over  his 
shoulder.  "  Delightful !  Why,  what  you  have 
done  is  exquisitely  indecent,  and  will  certainly  in 
volve  us  both  in  everything  unpleasant.  Now, 
what  else  are  you  going  to  do?  " 

"  That  sale,"  he  reflected — "  you  remember?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  !  " 

"  It's  canceled." 

"  No,  it  isn't,"  she  said  with  a  laugh  ending  in 
a  little  check.  "  But  you  may  compromise  me  if 
you — if  you  can  manage  it.  I'll  flirt  with  you  if 
you  can  keep  the  others  off." 

"I'll  do  my  best,"  he  said,  looking  at  her, 
scarcely  knowing  what  he  was  saying.  "  You 
danced  too  well  for  me  to  let  you  go  when  I  bored 
you;  now  that  I  don't,  do  you  think  I  shall  let 
you  go  ?  " 

She  was  on  the  verge  of  something — laughter 
or  tears.  He  felt  it,  yet  knew  that  she  would  not 
pass  the  verge. 

"  Now  I  have  amused  you  a  little,"  he  said, 
"  will  you  sit  out  the  rest  of  this  dance  with 
me?" 

299 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

"  How  can  I  help  it  ?  Your  name  has  replaced 
the  others." 

He  erased  his  name,  and,  from  memory,  filled  in 
the  other  names  in  sequence.  Then  pocketing  the 
tablets,  he  said  airily :  "  Technically,  I  recover  my 
self-respect  —  but,  there's  a  second  conservatory 
beyond  this  one  where  I  may  lose  yours." 

"  I  hope  it  is  dark,"  she  said  calmly. 

"  It  is.    We'll  go  to  the  farthest  corner." 

Passing  through  palms  and  tree  ferns,  they 
heard  the  music  behind  them  cease ;  and  they  moved 
a  trifle  more  quickly. 

"  It's  locked,"  he  said. 

"  I  don't  care.    Unlock  it." 

He  turned  the  key.  They  entered.  A  few  elec 
tric  bulbs  glimmered  here  and  there,  gilding  thick 
ets  of  blossoms.  There  were  no  chairs  to  be  found, 
and  he  had  started  to  return  for  them,  when  she 
called  his  attention  to  a  green  bench  under  a  mass 
of  flowering  vines,  and,  seating  herself,  looked  up 
at  him  expectantly. 

"  Now,"  he  said,  as  he  took  his  place  beside  her, 
"  you  may  tell  me  anything  or  nothing,  as  you 
please.  You  are  terribly  excited — I'm  rather  ex 
cited,  too.  Every  normal  man  is  always  reckless ; 
every  normal  woman  is,  once  in  a  lifetime.  It's  a 
crisis ;  you've  reached  it.  I'm  a  decent  sort  of  fel- 
300 


THE   GHOST   OF   CHANCE 

low — safer  than  the  next  man,  maybe.  And  now 
I'm  keyed  up,  ready  to  listen,  ready  to  talk,  seri 
ously  or  frivolously — ready  to  make  love — either 
way." 

"  Make  love  to  me,  seriously?  "  she  said  gayly. 
"  Ah,  but  you  are  safe  to  say  so — knowing  that 
I  am  sold ! "  After  a  moment  she  looked  up : 
"  Why  don't  you  ask  me  who  bought  me?  " 

"  Oh,  I  know,"  he  nodded. 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  " 

"  I  saw  your  face — after  the  bargain." 

The  smile  on  her  mouth  remained,  but  he  looked 
away,  unable  to  meet  her  haunted  eyes. 

"  Rub  out  these  names,"  she  said  suddenly,  offer 
ing  to  take  the  card  again.  And,  as  he  made  no 
movement,  she  suddenly  tore  it  to  pieces  in  her 
gloved  hands  and  held  the  fragments  toward  him 
with  a  miserable  little  laugh.  He  took  them,  re 
taining  her  hand  in  his. 

"  You  are  the  prettiest  girl  in  the  world,"  he 
said  lightly.  "  Shall  I  tell  you  more?  " 

"  Do  you  know  that  I  am  engaged  to  Mr. 
Thorne  again  ?  " 

"  But  I  am  going  to  make  love  to  you." 

"  But — I  am  really  going  to  marry  him — on 
Monday." 

He  laughed,  looking  her  in  the  eyes. 
301 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

"  Do  you  not  believe  me  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  No,"  he  said,  laughing. 

"  But  it  is  true.  I  have  put  it  off — I  have 
waited  until  the  last  moment — you  know  what  I 
said  to-day " 

Incredulous,  smiling,  he  recovered  the  hand  she 
had  withdrawn.  She  suffered  it  to  lie  in  his,  look 
ing  at  him  almost  frightened. 

"  It  is  stupid  not  to  believe  me,"  she  said. 
"  Can't  a  man  tell  when  a  girl  is  speaking  the 
truth?  I  tell  you  I  must  marry  him  on  Monday, 
if  I'm  to  get  anything  from  my  grandfather — 

His  hand,  holding  hers,  relaxed;  he  looked  at 
her  uneasily. 

"  All  my  sisters  did  the  same  thing,"  she  went 
on — "  all  hung  back  until  the  last  moment.  Then, 
like  me,  deadly  tired  of  the  pressure,  they  gave  in 
in  a  hurry.  I'm  the  youngest  and  last — thank 
Heaven !  " 

"  What  is  all  this?  "  he  demanded. 

"  Nothing — indolence — an  idea  that  I  might 
fall  in  love,  perhaps — kept  me  from  marrying. 

Her  voice  trailed,  vaguely  reminiscent;  she 
gazed  at  him  with  dimmed,  speculative  eyes,  rest 
ing  her  chin  on  one  curved  wrist,  elbow  denting 
her  silken  knee. 

"  If  a  girl  has  a  fool  for  a  grandfather, 
302 


THE   GHOST   OF   CHANCE 

what  can  she  do?     And  I'm  tired  of  the  home 
pressure." 

She  bent  her  head,  idly  lifting  finger  after  fin 
ger  of  the  white  gloved  hand  that  lay  passively  in 
his  palm. 

"  So  there  you  are,"  she  added ;  and,  as  he  said 
nothing,  she  went  on :  "  Tuesday,  I'm  twenty-one. 
Isn't  it  absurd  and  dreadful  ?  But  there  you  are ; 
I  put  it  off  and  put  it  off,  vowing  and  declaring 
I  wouldn't  marry  just  to  inherit  my  part.  Mother 
has  wept  most  of  this  year ;  but  I  said  '  No !  no ! 
110 ! '  and  I  refused  to  be  the  victim  of  any  grand 
father,  and  I  declined  to  consider  his  wishes,  or 
Mr.  Thome's." 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders:  "But — you  see? 
Cupidity  at  the  last  moment !  " 

"  Whose  cupidity?  "  he  asked  coolly. 

"  Mine,"  she  said,  but  he  knew  she  was  not 
truthful. 

"That's  all  right,"  he  observed  cheerfully— 
"  as  long  as  it  was  not  your  family's."  And,  still 
smiling,  he  thought  of  her  mother  adroitly  block 
ing  his  way  until  the  daughter  and  the  merchant 
had  concluded  the  bargain  and  patched  up  a 
broken  truce. 

"  It   will  be   one  of  those   '  married-while-you- 
wait '  affairs,"  she  said,  watching  him ;  "  travel- 
303 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

ing  clothes  and  a  few  of  the  family.  Don't  you 
want  to  come?  You  must  come !  "  she  added ;  "  will 
you?" 

"  I  have  an  idea,"  he  said,  with  a  curious  stare, 
"  that  I  may  be  present  at  your  wedding." 

"  Good !  Come  with  Jack  Terriss  and  Prince 
Minsksky." 

"  Oh,  do  you  already  number  me  with  the  Jack 
Terrisses  ?  "  he  drawled. 

"  Certainly.  Am  I  not  pretty?  Wouldn't  you 
kiss  me  if  you — could?  He  always  wants  to; 
others  have  wanted  to.  Then  I  number  you  with 
the  others;  they  were  no  more  serious  than  you 
are." 

"  Is  it  they  or  you  who  are  not  serious  ?  "  he 
asked.  "  I  think  if  you  gave  any  of  them  the 
chance  you  have  given  Thorne " 

"  Yes,  but  I  don't  love  any  of  them.  And  Mr. 
Thorne  is  inevitable." 

"  I  see,"  said  Leeds  carelessly.  "  So  I  am  to  say 
to-night :  '  Much  happiness ! '  and  other  stupid 
ities.  Am  I  not  to  say  all  these  things  ?  " 

"  Yes,  if  you  like." 

"  But  I  won't." 

"  That  would  be  rude,  wouldn't  it  ?  "    She  looked 
up  at  him  smiling,  yet  with  something  of  concern, 
for  he  had  both  her  hands  now. 
304 


THE    GHOST   OF    CHANCE 

"  Do  you  know  what  I  am  going  to  do?  "  he 
asked. 

"  No." 

"  I  am   going  to  make  love  to  you  at  once." 

"  You  may ;  I'm  engaged." 

He  listened  a  moment ;  the  music  rang  distantly  ; 
somebody  was  missing  a  dance  with  the  woman 
whose  gloved  hands  lay  in  his. 

"  If  you  are  going  to  marry  for  pure  cupidity, 
why  not  take  me  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Any  man  would 
do  for  your  amiable  grandfather — and  it  seems  to 
be  all  the  same  to  you." 

"  I  did  not  know  you  well  enough  to  ask  you," 
she  said  audaciously. 

"  Would  I  have  done  as  well  as  anybody  ?  "  he 
demanded. 

"  Yes,  as  well — for  me.  Mother  prefers  the  in 
evitable  one." 

"  Would  I  have  done  better  than  anybody — for 
you?  "  he  persisted. 

"Must  I  answer?" 

"  Yes ;  you  have  only  fibbed  once  to-night." 

"  Then  —  I'd  rather  —  not  answer.  Don't  — 
don't  pretend  to  be  serious.  Be  as  frivolous  as  you 
will ;  make  love  to  me  if  you  wish — only  don't  pre 
tend." 

"  No,  I  won't  pretend,"  he  said.  She  looked  at 
305 


THE   TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

him ;  his  face  caught  fire  though  he  strove  to  speak 
gayly :  "  I  never  believed  I  should  fall  in  love — like 
this — not  even  when  I  first  met  you.  You  are 
faultlessly  beautiful,  with  your  thick,  ruddy-gold 
hair — the  hair  I  painted  into  my  picture — and  I 
painted  your  splendid,  innocent  eyes,  and  that 
scarlet,  sulky  mouth  —  not  sullen  then,  Naida. 
Had  I  known  such  things  were  bought  and  sold  I 
should  have  bid " 

"  Stop,"  she  breathed. 

"  But  all  I  should  have  offered  was  an  ordinary 
heart — and  you  say  that  counts  nothing  against 
— other  considerations." 

"  Nothing,"  she  said,  setting  her  lips. 

"  It  counts  nothing,"  he  repeated,  watching  her. 

"  Nothing  —  absolutely  nothing.  Is  this  how 
you  amuse  me?  Is  this  what  you  call  making 
love?" 

"  Partly  this,"  he  said,  "  partly  "—and  he  de 
liberately  and  unskillfully  kissed  her  —  "  partly 
this." 

She  rose,  blushing  scarlet,  whisking  her  hands 
from  his.  He  stood  up  to  confront  her,  rather 
white. 

"  You  are  too — "  she  began  unsteadily. 

"What?" 

"  Brutal.  I  have  been  kissed  before — but  not 
306 


THE    GHOST   OF   CHANCE 

stupidly — as  you  did.  It  was  almost  an  affront — 
if  such  a  woman  as  I  can  be  affronted."  Cheeks 
and  eyes  were  ablaze. 

"  I  told  you,"  he  said  between  lips  almost 
colorless,  "  that  I  should  speak  the  truth.  I  do ; 
I  love  you.  Can  you  give  me  a  ghost  of  a' 
chance?  " 

"  You  are  clumsy  and  silly,"  she  said.  "  I — I 
was  ready  for  almost  anything — supposing  you 
were  clever  enough  to  carry  it  all  off  lightly " 

"  I  can ;  I've  kissed  plenty  of  girls,  but  only  one 
I've  cared  for — that's  why  I  was  so  awkward;  I 
was  scared  to  death.  Why  on  earth  did  I  awake 
at  the  eleventh  hour  to  find  that  I  loved  you !  " 

"  You  are  imposing  on  us  both,"  she  said  calmly. 
"  Besides,  I  don't  believe  you've  kissed  very  many 
girls.  Jack  Terriss  says  you  have  no  use  for  them 
except  as  models." 

"  Jack's  crazy.  Girls  ?  Why,  the  girls  I've 
kissed,"  he  explained  blandly,  "  would  fill  that  ball 
room " 

"  And  overflow  into  this  conservatory,"  she 
added,  quietly  curious,  yet  perfectly  convinced  now 
that  his  experience  had  been  as  limited  as  her  own. 
For  she  had  never  before  been  kissed. 

"  If  you'll  let  me  show  you — "  he  suggested. 

"Show  me  what?" 

307 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

"  That  I  do  know  how  to  kiss  a  girl " 

She  looked  at  him,  then  sat  up  straight,  strip 
ping  off  her  gloves.  Her  face  was  hot;  she  used 
her  fan. 

He  picked  up  one  of  her  hands  and  she  de 
murred,  but  he  held  to  it  with  a  fascinated 
determination  that  made  a  struggle  unreason 
able. 

"  What  is  the  use,"  she  said,  "  of  kissing  a  girl 
who  is  engaged  ?  No,  I  will  not !  I  forbid  you !  I 
—please  don't  do " 

"Do  what?"  he  asked. 

"  That !  You  have  done  it  twice — when  I  asked 
you  not  to." 

"  Was  I  clumsy  this  time?  " 

"  Yes ! " 

"  Then " 

"  No — no — no !  "  Hands  locked,  she  bent  back 
ward,  evading  him  breathlessly,  yet  looking  into 
his  eyes  with  a  curiosity,  a  fear,  and  something 
else  that  no  man  had  ever  seen  in  her  gaze — some 
thing  that  he  saw,  and  which  the  scarlet  mouth, 
no  longer  sulky,  tremblingly  confirmed. 

'  There  is  a  chance — a  ghost  of  a  chance !  "  he 
said,  steadying  his  voice. 

"  No — no !     There  is  no  chance — even  if  you 

did " 

308 


THE    GHOST   OF   CHANCE 

"What?" 

"  Love  me !  No  chance,  no  ghost  of  a  chance. 
Release  me — please — I  beg  you.  Oh,  won't  you 
listen  ?  You — you  must  not  put  your  arm  around 
me " 

The  struggle  was  brief ;  she  strained  away  from 
him  desperately ;  and  when  he  had  her  closer,  she 
avoided  his  lips,  hiding  her  face — and,  as  the  hid 
ing  place  happened  to  be,  by  some  dreadful  mis 
take,  his  shoulder,  he  drew  her  face  upward  and 
kissed  her  mouth  again  and  again,  until  her  head 
lay  there  quietly,  eyes  closed,  wet  lashes  on  her 
burning  cheeks. 

Then  he  used  what  voice  he  could  command  in 
a  very  manly  and  earnest  fashion ;  and  whether  she 
heeded  or  whether  even  she  heard  was  uncertain, 
for  the  tears  kept  her  lashes  wet,  and  her  hands 
covered  her  face. 

This  was  all  very  well,  particularly  when  he 
drew  one  hand  away,  and  her  slim  fingers  closed 
convulsively  over  his.  Between  them  they  wrecked 
her  delicate  ivory  fan,  but  neither  seemed  conscious 
of  any  loss. 

"  Now  will  you  give  me  a  ghost  of  a  chance?  " 
he  whispered. 

"  I— I  can't " 

"  Look  at  me,  Naida " 

309 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

"  No." 

"  You  must.    I  love  you." 

"  How  can  you — a  girl  bought — sold " 

"  I  bid  higher,  dear." 

"  I  know — my — my  first  kiss.  You  will  not  be 
lieve  it — of  a  girl  you  kissed  so  easily.  But  it  is 
— I  have  never  before  been  kissed.  But  I  can't 
take  the  price;  I'm  sold —  You  had  better  kiss 
me  for  all  the  years  to  come." 

He  bent  his  head ;  her  eyes  unclosed,  and,  look 
ing  up  at  him,  she  put  both  arms  around  his  neck. 

"  You  do  love  me,"  he  breathed. 

She  only  looked  at  him. 

"You  must!" 

"  I  might — if  there  was  time.  How  can  I  have 
time  to  love  you?  " 

"  Marry  me ;  and  you  shall  have  years  of 
time." 

"  But  suppose  I  found  I  did  not  love  you, 
silly?" 

"  You  would  be  no  worse  off  than  if  you  married 
the  inevitable." 

Her  head  lay  on  his  shoulder ;  she  looked  at  him 
reflectively.  "  Suppose,"  she  said,  "  suppose  I 
marry  neither  of  you — for  a  while — and  let  that 
wretched  inheritance  go !  " 

"  For  God's  sake,  let  it  go ! "  he  said  fiercely. 
310 


THE   GHOST   OF   CHANCE 

"  Give  me  a  ghost  of  a  chance ;  that  is  all  I  ask 
— more  than  I  dare  hope." 

"  And — if  I  loved  you — in  the  remote  future, 
would  you  marry  a  penniless  girl?  " 

"Will  that  penniless  girl  promise  me?"  he 
asked  under  his  breath. 

"  No !  "  said  her  mother  from  the  glass  door 
way.  And  they  both  stood  up. 

"  The  dishonorable  part  you  have  played,"  con 
tinued  the  quivering  matron,  "  matches  your  lack 
of    the    elemental   decencies,   and    your    ignorance 
of   the  ordinary   observances    of   conventional — 
Fury  choked  her. 

"  I  only  desire  to  marry  your  daughter, 
madam." 

"  Naida !  " 

"  Yes,  mamma." 

She  hesitated,  turned  to  the  man  beside  her,  and 
looked  up  at  him. 

"  Good-by,"  she  said ;  "  don't  forget." 

Forget  what,  silly  child?  A  flirt  whom  he  had 
so  easily  kissed  in  a  conservatory  ?  Why,  men  find 
them  everywhere — and  not  too  difficult.  Her  first  ? 
Why,  some  man  must  be  a  coquette's  first — and  in 
her  case  it  happened  to  be  Leeds. 

So  she  walked  slowly  to  the  door,  and  her  mother 
took  her  arm,  and  she  looked  back  at  the  man 
21  311 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

standing  there,  his  hands  fumbling  the  shreds  of 
her  broken  fan. 

"  Good  night ! "  she  said ;  and  to  her  mother : 
"  You  hurt  my  arm,  dear." 

"  Are  you  mad?  "  hissed  that  horrified  matron. 

"  Quite.  I  told  him  I  was  likely  to  do  anything 
to-night." 

"  You  have  done  it !  " 

"  I  hope  so,  mother." 

"Hope  what?" 

"  That  I've  made  him  love  me." 

"  Merciful  Heaven !  What  has—"  She  halted, 
turning  her  tall  daughter  to  face  her.  "  Is  it 
champagne  ?  "  she  demanded. 

"  No ;  do  I  look  dreadfully  mussed  ?  Oh,  well 
— it  was  my  first  kiss,  you  know.  One  doesn't  un 
derstand  how  to  take  it  coolly ;  I  was  very  awkward 
— and  fool  enough  to  cry.  My  head  aches.  I 
fancy  I  look  perfectly  disreputable.  Mother,  will 
you — there  he  is  now! — will  you  please  keep  off 
your  Thornes  and  your  Russians  until  I  can  es 
cape?  I  will  be  in  the  dressing  room — quite  ready 
to  go,  mother  dear." 

"  Naida,"  she  said,  her  voice  trembling,  "  I  tell 
you  now  that  if  you  are  actually  in  love " 

"Yes,  dear?" 

"  If  you  are,  don't  consider  my — my  wishes " 

312 


THE   GHOST   OF   CHANCE 

"About  Mr.  Thorne?" 

"  About  anybody  —  even  a  man  disreputable 
enough  to  kiss  you " 

"  Any  man — to  save  my  inheritance,  mother  ?  " 

"  Any  eligible  man,  we  decided." 

"  Then  it's  got  to  be  somebody  ?  " 

"  It  has,  little  daughter — unless  we're  a  pair  of 
fools!" 

"  Well,  then— if  it's  to  be  a  man,  I  think— I 

think "     She  turned  and  looked  back  into  the 

long  conservatories.  But  what  she  thought  she 
did  not  utter,  for  at  that  moment  the  Russian 
spied  her  and  came  up  palled  and  speechlessly 
fierce.  And  she  took  his  arm  very  sweetly. 

"  Now  we'll  dance  until  daylight  if  you  desire," 
she  said,  heading  him  off  in  the  midst  of  an  aston 
ished  inquiry  concerning  her  disappearance.  "  I 
think  we  had  better  have  the  j  oiliest  time  we  can 
— while  it  lasts.  Because,"  she  added  pensively, 
"  I  may  run  away  from  everybody  some  day.  I'm 
quite  likely  to  do  anything,  you  know ;  am  I  not, 
mother?" 

His  alarm  was  so  genuine  that  she  threw  back 
her  head  and  laughed  the  most  delicious  and  care 
free  laugh  he  had  ever  heard  from  her. 

"  Ah !  It  iss  a  pleasantry !  "  he  said,  inexpres 
sibly  relieved. 

313 


THE   TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

"  Of  course,"  she  said  gayly.  "  I  shall  keep  my 
legacy  and  marry  somebody — you  or  Thome  or 
somebody.  Therefore,  monsieur,  I  require  sleep; 
therefore  " — she  dropped  his  arm  and  a  courtesy 
at  the  same  time — "  adieu,  monsieur." 

"  So  soon,  mademoiselle !  " 

"  None  too  soon,  monsieur.  Mother !  If  you 
are  ready?  The  prince  is  waiting  to  make  his 
adieus." 

An  hour  later  her  mother  kissed  her  good  night 
with  the  humble  and  modest  conviction  that  she 
had  done  well  by  every  daughter,  and  had  garnered 
every  penny  with  which  that  miserable  will  had 
tantalized  her  so  long. 

"  Good  night,  Naida,"  she  said  affectionately. 
"  De  Peyster  is  a  lovable  fellow.  If  you  can't  love 
him  you  can't  love  anybody." 

"  I  don't  know ;  I'll  see  how  I  sleep,  mother." 

"What  do  you  mean,  Naida?"  she  asked 
anxiously. 

"  That's  just  it — I  don't  know  exactly  what  I 
do  mean.  But  I'll  know  if  I  don't  sleep.  Good 
night,  mother.  If  I  am  not  in  my  room  in  the 
morning  you  will  know  I  have  married  —  some 
body." 

"  You— you  wouldn't  do " 

"  Oh,  you  know  I  am  likely  to  do  anything !  I 
314 


THE   GHOST   OF   CHANCE 

wish  I  could  guess  what  it  is  to  be — the  next  thing 
I  am  destined  to  do." 

She  turned  over  in  her  great  white  bed,  bury 
ing  her  hot  cheeks  in  the  pillow.  She  heard  her 
mother  leave  the  room;  then  her  maid  tiptoeing 
about,  and  presently  the  click  of  the  electric  but 
ton.  She  opened  her  eyes  in  darkness,  and  lying 
there  fell  a-thinking  of  the  ghost  of  a  chance  a 
man  had  lost  forever — or  was  it  the  man  who  had 
lost  it  ?  Was  it  not  the  maid  after  all  ? 

"  Men  kiss  pretty  women  when  they  can,"  she 
reasoned,  raising  her  hands  to  her  heated  cheeks. 
"  He  meant  nothing  that  he  will  not  forget  this 
time  next  month.  ...  So  that  is  how  it  feels  to 
be  kissed!  And  I  sniveled.  .  .  .  dear  me! 

"  Still — if  I  had  only  had  time — I  could  have 
made  him  love  me — I  think.  .  .  .  But  artists  are 
notoriously  inconstant.  .  .  .  and  usually  very 
poor.  If  I — I  could  have  married  him,  I  should 
have  felt  morally  obliged  to  bring  him  something. 
So  there  you  are;  I  didn't  know  he  was  like  that 
or  I  might  have  hunted  him  up  and  given  him 
a  chance  a  year  ago.  .  .  .  Why  didn't  he  take  it  ? 
He — it  is  impossible  he  could  suddenly  love  me — 
now — at  the  last  moment,  when  it's  too  late.  .  .  . 
And  I  suppose  it  was  abominable  of  him  to  have 
kissed  me.  .  .  .  And  he  did  it  so  frequently.  .  .  . 
315 


THE   TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  I,  lying  here,  am  a  thoroughly 
kissed  girl.  .  .  .  And  I'm  shamelessly  indifferent 
to  his  guilt  and  mine.  So — I  think  I'll  sleep  a 
little.  .  .  ." 

But  she  couldn't. 

"  If  I  really  find  that  I  can't  sleep,"  she  said 
softly  to  herself,  "  I'm  likely  to  do  almost  any 
thing.  I  wonder  whether  he  is  asleep." 

He  was  not;  he  was  seated  in  a  rather  small, 
dark,  and  chilly  room  not  half  a  mile  uptown. 
Jaws  set,  chin  on  his  clenched  fist,  looking  into  the 
hollow  eyes  of  a  ghost — the  Ghost  of  Chance.  But 
the  ghost  as  yet  had  made  no  sign. 

For  a  while  she  lay  there,  wide-eyed,  restless, 
face  and  arms  flushed,  her  heart  quickening  to  the 
rapid  rush  of  disordered  thought  hurrying  her  on 
ward — whither,  she  scarcely  knew,  until  she  found 
herself  standing  before  her  mirror,  the  electric 
light  flooding  the  room  once  more. 

"  I  can't  lie  there,"  she  said  to  herself;  "  I  can't 
sleep;  it  seems  to  me  as  if  I  could  never  sleep 
again." 

The  small  gilt  clock  struck  the  hour — five !  She 
considered  it,  turned  and  went  to  the  window,  and, 
raising  the  shade,  looked  out.  The  shadows  of 
the  electric  lamps  played  quivering  over  the  snow ; 
nothing  else  stirred.  She  crossed  the  room  and 
316 


THE   GHOST   OF   CHANCE 


opened  her  door,  listening  there  in  the  darkness. 
Then,  treading  softly,  the  tips  of  her  fingers  on 
the  mahogany  rail  to  guide  her,  she  felt  her  way 
down  the  stairs,  her  small  bare  feet  brushing  the 
velvet  carpet. 

There  was  an  electric  jet  in  the  lower  hall;  she 
turned  it  on,  groped  about  on  the  telephone  shelf 
for  the  directory,  and  turned  the  leaves  noiselessly 
until  she  came  to  the  letter,  L.  Very  carefully  she 
traced  the  column  of  names,  eyes  following  her 
moving  finger,  until  she  found  what  she  wanted. 
Then  she  turned,  unhooked  the  receiver,  and 
pressed  it  to  her  ear: 

"  Hello  !  "  she  almost  whispered.  "  Please  give 
me  nine — O — three — Lenox  Hill." 

And  after  a  throbbing  wait : 

"Is  this  the  Lenox  Club?" 

"  Has  Mr.  Leeds  come  in  yet?  " 

"  Perhaps  he  isn't  asleep.  Please  find  out.  .  .  . 
No,  I  can't  give  my  name." 

"  Yes  ;  it  is  of  great  importance.  If  he  is  asleep, 
please  wake  him." 

"  Yes,  I'll  hold  the  wire." 
317 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

The  receiver  against  her  ear  was  trembling,  but 
she  could  not  control  her  hand. 

"Yes  !  ...  Is  that  you,  Mr.  Leeds?  " 

"  Can't  you  guess  who  it  is  ?  " 

;<  You  can't !  Do  you  mean  to  intimate  that 
other  gir — other  people  call  you  up  at  five  o'clock 
in  the  morning !  " 

•  •  •  .  •  • 

"  Of  course  it  is  I !  " 

•  •  .  .  • 

"  Yes,  Naida." 

"  I  am  at  home.  I  could  not  sleep,  so  I  thought 
I  would  find  out  whether  you  could.  Besides,  I 
wanted  to  know  whether  you  stayed  for  the  co 
tillon." 

"But  why  didn't  you?" 

"  Oh !  that  is  very  nice  of  you — to  say  that  I — 
And  haven't  you  really  been  asleep  ?  " 

"Doing  what?" 

•  •  •  •  • 

"  Thinking  of  me !  " 

•  •  •  •  • 

318 


THE   GHOST   OF   CHANCE 

"  All  alone  in  your  room  at  this  ghastly  hour 
of  the  morning,  thinking  about  me?  Do  you  ex 
pect  me  to  believe " 

"  I  won't  tell  you — now." 

"  Haven't  I  enough  to  keep  me  awake  think- 
ing?  " 

"  No,  I  don't  mean  that.  You  know  perfectly 
well  that  you  gave  me  sufficient  to  think  about — 
for  the  rest  of  my  days." 

"  Don't  say  that  over  the  'phone !  Yes,  it  was 
the  first — the  very  first  time  it  had  ever  been — 
been  done  to  me." 

"  No,  I  don't  forget  anything ;  I  never  shall. 
What  do  you  mean  by  a  ghost  of  a  chance  ?  " 

"  Oh !  Do  you  truly  mean  that  ?  I  am  so — so 
dreadfully  happy  to  hear  you  say  that — 

"  Yes." 
"  Yes." 


319 


THE    TREE   OF   HEAVEN 


6  Yes." 
"  Ye-s " 


"Oh-h!" 

•  •  »  • 

"What!    Now!!99 

"  Do  you  mean  now  ? — at  five  o'clock  in 

"  I  do  I  I  am  in  love  with  you !  But  I'm  not 
insane " 

"Oh,  this  is  dreadful!— Yes,  I'll  hold  the  wire. 
Yes,  the  other  name  for  it  is  the  Church  of  the 
Transfiguration,  but " 

"  Nobody  will  do  it  for  us  at  this  hour ! " 

"  Well,  I'll  wait " 

She  leaned  against  the  telephone  shelf,  the  re 
ceiver  pressed  convulsively  to  her  ear,  blue  eyes 
closed.  Years  seemed  to  drag  Time  in  endless 
chains  across  her  vision ;  her  knees  fell  trembling ; 
thought,  run  riot,  raced  through  her  brain,  and 
every  little  pulse  clamored  to  the  heart's  hard 
beating. 

320 


THE   GHOST   OF   CHANCE 

"Yes!"   she  gasped  with  a  start;  "I'm   still 
here." 

•  •  •  •  • 

"  No,  I  am  not  dressed  for — for  the  street " 


"  Yes — if  you  wish  it.  ...  It  will  take  only  a 
few  minutes.     But,  oh — do  you  think ?  " 

"  Truly  I  will ;  I  do  love  you." 

•  .  .  •  • 

"  Yes,  I  will  hurry.    Good-by " 


"I  do!  I  do!    You  will  see!" 

Up  the  dark  stairway  once  more  in  velvet-footed 
haste,  giving  herself  no  moment  for  considering 
what  she  was  about  to  do ;  masses  of  heavy,  glow 
ing  hair  in  a  tangle,  with  comb  and  brush  flying ; 
the  soft,  intimate  perfume  of  lace  and  delicate 
linen,  silk,  and  the  flutter  of  ribbon;  then  gown 
and  hat  and  furs — a  stare  at  the  unknown  face  in 
the  mirror — her  last  adieu  to  the  girl  she  had 
known  so  long.  But,  in  the  dark  outside  her  door, 
she  heard  the  summons — the  voiceless  call  of  the 
Ghost  of  Chance,  waiting  attendance;  and  her 
heart  responded  passionately.  Down  through  the 
darkness  again — fumbling  at  chain  and  bolt — the 
keen  night  air  in  her  throat;  and,  through  the 
321 


THE   TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

wintry  silence  veiled  in  darkness,  the  yellow  lamps 
of  a  brougham  gilding  her  face,  dazzling  her  as 
she  laid  her  groping  hand  on  the  arm  of  the  man 
who  sprang  forward  to  guide  her. 

"  You  mustn't  shiver  so — you  must  not  tremble 
that  way,"  he  whispered.  "  It  is  all  right,  dear ; 
I've  got  McManus  and  Kenna  for  witnesses ; 
they're  at  the  church;  I've  made  arrangements. 
Naida!  Naida!  The  inevitable  was  never  inev 
itable  while  there  was  the  ghost  of  a  chance  that 
you  loved  me." 

She  caught  his  hands  in  hers,  staring  into  his 
face,  which  was  as  white  as  her  own.  "  Oh !  "  she 
breathed.  "  I  love  you  so.  As  maid — as  wife, 
you  have  taken  all  there  is  to  me — all  of  good,  of 
evil — with  my  first  kiss !  I  am  yours — no  matter 
what  an  outward  fate  might  hold  for  me.  .  .  . 
Listen ;  look  at  me !  Am  I  to  go  with  you  ?  Shall 
you  repent  it?  Wait — hush,  dear;  it  is  not  too 
late  yet.  I  am  not  thinking  of  myself — for  the 
first  time  in  my  life  I  am  not  thinking  of  self; 
nor  of  my  mother;  she  is  easily  reconciled.  I  am 
thinking  of  you — of  you  and  all  that  splendor 
your  spirit  lives  in — all  the  heavenly  world  into 
which  you  set  me — into  which  you  painted  me, 
transfigured,  with  eyes  that  seemed  just  opening 
in  paradise! 

322 


THE   GHOST   OF   CHANCE 

"  Tell  me,  dear ;  your  life  is  important ;  it  is 
really  not  your  own  to  throw  away.  Shall  I  go 
with  you  ?  Shall  I  stay  here,  quiet  with  your  mem 
ory — my  life  already  fulfilled?  " 

His  answer  was  so  low  that  she  bent  her  head 
close  to  his  to  listen.  And,  after  a  long  while,  un 
closing  her  eyes,  she  saw  through  the  carriage 
window  the  dim  gas  lamps  shining  and  the  stained 
light  of  a  church  window  tracing  across  the  snow 
a  celestial  pathway  tinted  with  crimson,  azure,  and 
gold.  The  horses  halted  with  a  snowy  thud  of 
dancing  hoofs ;  the  wintry  air  rushed  into  her  face 
as  the  carriage  door  was  opened  by  two  tall  Irish 
men  wearing  very  shiny  silk  hats. 

"  Naida,  Mr.  McManus — Mr.  Kenna " 

The  tall  hats  of  the  tall  Irishmen  swept  the 
snow ;  to  each  in  turn  she  offered  an  unsteady  little 
hand ;  then  leaning  on  Leeds' s  arm  she  entered  the 
iron  gateway,  the  two  contractors  following. 

"  The  purty  lady,"  purred  Kenna ;  "  d'ye  mind 
the  little  hand  of  her,  McManus  ?  " 

"  I  did  so ;  an'  I  seen  the  mitten  to  fit  it. 
Shquare  yer  chist,  man ;  we're  walkin'  on  shtocks 
and  bonds ;  we're  walkin'  on  the  red  neck  o'  pride 
and  power,  Kenna.  Whisht;  cock  yer  hat,  an' 
thread  majestic!" 

And  so  through  the  snowy  darkness  of  dawn 
323 


THE   TREE   OF   HEAVEN 

they  passed  across  the  frozen  gardens  to  that  little 
church  around  the  corner  where  no  sweeter  bride 
shall  ever  kneel  than  knelt  there  then  at  prayer 
among  the  tinted  shadows.  And  behind  them  knelt 
the  Ghost  of  Chance. 

The  sun  rose  at  seven;  and  a  little  later  the 
bride  left  the  church,  her  pale,  enraptured  face 
uplifted  to  the  rosy  zenith.  She  returned  to  earth 
presently :  "  Jim,  shall  we  stop  and  breakfast  with 
— our  mother  ?  " 

He  pressed  her  hand  in  agonized  acquiescence; 
he  was  too  scared  to  speak.  At  the  same  time  he 
seemed  to  be  conscious  of  something  at  his  elbow, 
laughing  in  silence.  It  was  the  Ghost  of  Chance 
bidding  them  au  revoir.  Then  the  brougham 
drove  up  at  a  signal  from  Kenna;  the  bride  en 
tered,  and  Leeds  turned  to  McManus :  "  At  five 
o'clock  this  morning  I  wired  Thorne  that  the  key 
panel  was  finished  and  ready  to  deliver.  We  leave 
for  Florida  this  afternoon.  Will  you  see  that  the 
contract  is  carried  out?  " 

"  Arrah,  leave  it  to  Kenna,  Misther  Leeds.  Is 
that  all,  sorr?" 

"  All— I  think » 

"  There  is  wan  little  item  I'm  thinkin'  yer  sweet 
lady  has  forgotten — but  mayhap  she  has  no  need 

av  it — now " 

324 


THE   GHOST   OF   CHANCE 

"  What's  that,  McManus?  " 

"  The  other  mitten,  sorr,"  giggled  McManus. 
Leeds  looked  at  him  for  a  full  second ;  they  shook 
hands  very  seriously. 

Then,  as  the  carriage  wheeled  and  drove  west, 
the  bride,  leaning  on  her  husband's  shoulder  to 
look  back,  caught  a  last  glimpse  of  a  snowy 
little  church,  an  ice-festooned  fountain  behind  the 
shrubbery,  and,  moving  majestically  in  the  middle 
distance,  shoulder  to  shoulder,  arm  under  arm,  two 
dignified  Irishmen,  their  tall  hats  burnished  into 
splendor  by  the  rising  sun. 


(i) 


THE    END 


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